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Books  by 
EMERSON  HOUGH 

The  Young  Alaskans  in  the  Rockies.     Ill'd. 

Post   8vo net  $1.25 

The  Young  Alaskans.     lU'd.     Post  8vo     net     1.25 

The  Young  Alaskans  on  the  Trail.     lU'd. 

Post   8vo n««     1.25 


HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK 


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— ' 

THE 

YOUNG  ALASKANS 
IN  THE  ROCKIES 


BY 

EMERSON    HOUGH 


ILLUSTRATED 


*>        J     »*    i        "o       ., 


HARPER   &■  BROTHERS    PUBLISHERS 

NEW   YORK  AND    LONDON 

MCMXIII 


COPYRIGHT.    1913.    BY    HARPER   a    BROTHERS 


PRINTED   IN   THE   UNITED   S'^ATES   OF   AMERICA 

PUBLISHED     SEPTEMBER.      1913 


G-N 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.  Rob,  John,  and  Jesse  in  Camp g 

II.  At  the  Fireside i8 

III.  Hitting  the  Trail 28 

IV.  Westward  Ho 48 

V.  Higher  than  the  Rockies 54 

VI.  The  Athabasca  at  Last 63 

VII.  Crossing  the  Athabasca 68 

VIII.  In  High  Altitudes 78 

IX.  The  Heart  of  the  Mountains 85 

X.  Rainbow  Lake 91 

XI.  The  Pass 102 

XII.  The  Wilderness 116 

XIII.  After  the  White  Goats 126 

XIV.  Down  the  Fraser 144 

XV.  The  Great  Mountain 156 

XVI.  At  the  Tete  Jaune  Cache 162 

XVII.  Leo  the  Grizzly  Hunter  .    . 172 

XVIII.  Southward  Bound 180 

XIX.  On  the  Canoe  River 186 

XX.  Caribou  in  Camp 192 

XXI.  The  First  Bear  Camp 198 

XXII.  The  Young  Grizzly  Hunters 215 


WGJJ.90 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

XXIII.  Onward  Bound 241 

XXIV.  The  Boat  Encampment 247 

XXV.  History  on  the  Ground 263 

XXVI.  Down  the  Columbia 276 

XXVII.  On  the  Rapids 283 

XXVIII.  In  Sight  of  Safety 295 

XXIX.  Stories  of  the  Columbia 303 

XXX.  The  End  of  the  Trail 315 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


A  trapper's  shack,  standing  at  the  edge  of  the 

BEAUTIFUL  MOUNTAIN  LAKE  WHICH  LAY  GREEN 
AND  MIRROR-LIKE,  SURROUNDED  ON  ALL  SIDES 
BY   GREAT   MOUNTAIN   WALLS Frontispiece 

ROB's   GOAT Facing  p.  IT,8 

APPROACHING  THE  GRAND  CANON  ON  THE  ERASER 
RIVER 

TOWERING  ABOVE  ALL  AND  DWARFING  ALL  RIVALRY 
THERE  STOOD  BEFORE  THEM  ONE  GREAT,  NOBLE 
WHITE-TOPPED   PEAK — MT.   ROBSON 

THE  BIG  BEND  OF  THE  COLUMBIA  RIVER 

THE  COLUMBIA  RIVER,  ABOVE  THE  BOAT  ENCAMPMENT 

ON   THE   COLUMBIA    RIVER  

REVELSTOKE   CANON 


146 


158 
248 
252 
300 
320 


YOUNG  ALASKANS 
IN  THE  ROCKIES 


YOUNG    ALASKANS 
IN   THE  ROCKIES 


ROB,   JOHN,   AND  JESSE   IN   CAMP 

WELL,  here  we  are,  fellows,"  said  Jesse 
Wilcox,  as  he  threw  down  an  armful 
of  wood  at  the  side  of  the  camp-fire.  "For 
my  part,  I  believe  this  is  going  to  be  about  the 
best  trip  we  ever  had." 

"That's  what  I  was  telling  Rob  to-day,"  said 
John  Hardy,  setting  down  a  pail  of  water  ne^ 
by.  "But  I  hope  I  won't  have  to  carry  watef 
up  a  bank  a  hundred  feet  high  every  night." 

"We  are  not  as  far  north  this  time  as  we 
were  last  summer,"  said  Jesse,  "but  the 
country  looks  something  the  same." 

"Yes,"  replied  John,  "but  last  year  we  were 
going  east  and  farther  away  from  home  every 
day.    Now  we're  going  west  to  the  Rockies 

9 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

and  across  them,  getting  closer  to  home  all 
the  time." 

Rob  Mclntyre,  the  oldest  of  owe  friends 
who  had  made  so  many  trips  together  in  the 
wilderness,  sat  silent,  as  was  often  his  custom, 
smiling  out  of  his  frank  blue  eyes  at  his  com- 
panions. 

"What  do  you  think  about  it,  Rob?"  asked 
Jesse. 

"I  agree  with  you,  Jess,"  replied  Rob. 
"I've  always  wanted  to  get  into  this  part  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains.  The  Yellowhead  Pass, 
over  yonder,  is  the  place  I've  always  wanted 
to  see.  It's  an  old  pass  across  the  Rockies, 
but  no  one  seems  to  know  much  about  it." 

"Besides,"  went  on  Jesse,  "we  ought  to  get 
plenty  of  game  and  good  fishing." 

"Surely  we  will,  for  this  is  a  country  that 
no  one  visits,  although  we  are  now  on  the 
trail  of  the  old  fur -traders  who  came  here 
often  enough  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago. 
On  the  high  ridges  in  here  you  can  see  the  old 
trail  cut  down  a  foot  deep.  And  it  was  made 
in  part  by  the  feet  of  men,  more  than  a  hun- 
dred years  ago." 

"Besides,"  added  John,  "we  can  see  where 
the  engineers  have  gone  ahead  of  us." 

lO 


ROB,  JOHN,  AND  JESSE  IN  CAMP 

"Yes,"  said  Rob,  "they've  pretty  much  fol- 
lowed the  trail  of  the  old  fur- traders." 

"Didn't  they  come  by  water  a  good  way  up 
here?"  asked  John. 

Rob  answered  by  pulling  out  of  his  pocket 
a  long  piece  of  heavy  paper,  a  map  which 
they  three  had  worked  over  many  days,  laying 
out  for  themselves  in  advance  the  best  they 
knew  how  the  route  which  they  were  to  follow 
and  the  distances  between  the  main  points  of 
interest.  "Now,  look  here,"  said  he,  "and 
you'll  see  that  for  once  we  are  at  a  place  where 
the  old  voyageurs  had  to  leave  their  boats  and 
take  to  the  land.  We're  going  to  cross  the 
Rockies  at  the  head  of  the  Athabasca  River, 
but  you  see  it  runs  away  northeast  from  its 
source  at  first,  at  least  one  hundred  miles 
north  of  Edmonton.  That  used  to  be  called 
Fort  Augustus  in  the  old  days,  and  the  voy- 
ageurs went  all  the  way  up  there  from  Mon- 
treal by  canoe.  Sometimes  they  followed  the 
Saskatchewan  from  there.  That  brought 
them  into  the  Rockies  away  south  of  here. 
They  went  over  the  Kootenai  Plains  there, 
and  over  the  Howse  Pass,  which  you  know  is 
between  here  and   Banff." 

"I    know,"    said    Jesse,    eagerly.     "Uncle 

XI 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

Dick  told  us  they  used  to  go  down  the  Blae- 
berry Creek  to  the  Columbia  River." 

' '  Exactly ;  and  there  was  a  way  they  could  go 
near  the  Wood  River  to  the  Columbia  River. 
For  instance,  here  on  the  map  is  a  place  near 
the  head  of  the  Big  Bend  of  the  Colimibia. 
That's  the  old  Boat  Encampment,  of  which 
the  old  histories  tell  so  much." 

"You  don't  suppose  we'll  ever  get  there?" 
said  John,  doubtfully.  "It  looks  a  long  ways 
off  from  here." 

"Of  course  we  will,"  said  Rob,  firmly. 
"When  we've  pushed  up  to  the  head  of  the 
Athabasca  River  and  gone  over  the  Yellow- 
head  Pass  it  will  all  be  downhill.  We'll  go 
fast  when  we  hit  the  rivers  running  south. 
And  we'll  come  in  but  a  little  way  from  the 
Boat  Encampment,  which  was  a  rendezvous 
for  all  the  old  traders  who  crossed  by  the 
Saskatchewan  trail  below  us.  But,  you.  see, 
we'll  be  taking  a  new  way;  and  I  agree  with 
Jess  that  it  will  be  about  the  best  trip  we  ever 
had." 

"Those  old  fur-traders  were  great  fellows 
to  travel,  weren't  they?"  said  Jesse,  looking 
curiously  at  the  deep-worn,  ancient  trail 
which  ran  close  by  their  camp. 

12 


ROB,  JOHN,  AND  JESSE  IN  CAMP 

"Yes,"  said  Rob,  "they  weren't  afraid  of 
anything.  When  they  got  to  Fort  Augustus 
they  had  three  choices  of  routes  west  over  the 
Rockies.  They  could  go  away  north  to  the 
Peace  River — old  Sir  Alexander  McKenzie's 
trail,  which  we  followed  last  summer;  or  they 
coiild  go  up  the  Saskatchewan  the  way  David 
Thompson  used  to  go  to  the  Columbia  River; 
or  they  could  strike  west  by  cart  or  pack- 
horse  from  Fort  Augustus  and  cross  this  rolling 
country  until  they  struck  the  Athabasca,  and 
then  follow  up  that  to  the  Yellowhead  Pass, 
I  shouldn't  wonder  if  old  Jasper  Hawse  was 
one  of  the  first  trail-makers  in  here.  But,  as 
I  was  saying,  those  who  came  this  route  had 
to  leave  their  boats  at  Edmonton.  Here  at 
Wolf  Creek  we  are  about  one  hundred  and 
thirty  miles  west  of  there.  For  a  long  while 
they  used  to  have  a  good  wagon  trail  as  far 
as  Saint  Anne,  and,  as  you  know,  it  has  been 
pretty  much  like  a  road  all  the  way  out  here." 

"I  like  the  narrow  trail  best,"  said  John; 
"one  made  by  feet  and  not  wheels." 

"Yes,"  went  on  Rob,  "perhaps  that's  why 
we're  so  anxious  to  get  on  with  this  trip. 
The  water  does  not  leave  any  mark  when  you 
travel  on  it,  but  here  is  the  trail  of  the  old 

13 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

traders  worn  deep  into  the  soil.  A  fellow  can 
almost  see  them  walking  or  riding  along  here, 
with  their  long  rifles  and  their  buckskin 
clothes." 

"That's  what  I  like  about  these  trips  Uncle 
Dick  lays  out  sometimes,"  said  Jesse.  "A 
fellow  sort  of  has  to  read  about  the  country 
and  the  men  who  found  it  first." 

"Yes,"  John  assented,  "reading  about  these 
old  places  makes  you  begin  to  see  that  there 
is  quite  a  world  besides  the  part  of  the  world 
where  we  were  bom.  It  seems  as  though 
these  old  fellows  in  the  past  weren't  making 
these  trails  just  for  themselves." 

"Pshaw!  I'll  bet  they  just  wanted  furs,  that 
was  all,"  ventured  Jesse.  "But,  anyhow,  they 
foimd  the  paths,  all  right." 

"The  Indians  foimd  the  paths  ahead  of  the 
traders,"  said  Rob.  "I  fancy  the  white  men 
did  not  have  such  hard  times  learning  which 
way  to  go.  The  Indians  must  have  worked 
backward  and  forward  across  almost  every  pass 
in  the  moimtains  before  the  white  men  came. 
It  makes  me  feel  kind  of  strange  to  be  here, 
just  where  the  great-grandfathers  of  white 
people  used  to  travel,  and  then  to  think  that 
before    their    grandfathers    were    bom    this 

14 


ROB,  JOHN,  AND  JESSE  IN  CAMP 

country  was  all  old  to  the  red  men,  who  held 
it  long  before  the  white  men  came." 

"Well,"  said  John,  who  was  of  a  practical 
turn  of  mind,  "it's  starting  in  pretty  well. 
We've  got  some  whitefish  left  that  we  caught 
at  Lake  Waubamim,  and  the  grouse  which  we 
killed  this  afternoon  will  make  up  a  good 
supper.  I  s'pose  if  we  were  the  first  to  cross 
over  we  might  have  got  antelope  in  here, 
or,  anyhow,  deer." 

"I'm  glad  Uncle  Dick  is  going  along,"  said 
Jesse.  "He  went  over  with  the  first  engineer 
party,  so  he  knows  about  all  the  bad  places. 
We  certainly  had  muskeg  enough  yesterday 
and  the  day  before.  If  it's  any  worse  ahead 
than  it  is  behind  it's  going  to  be  pretty 
tough." 

"Look  yonder,  fellows!"  said  Rob,  suddenly 
rising  and  pointing  to  the  westward. 

They  followed  his  gesture  and  for  a  moment 
stood  silent  with  him. 

"It's  the  Rockies!"  said  they,  almost  in 
tmison. 

The  clouds  had  now  broken  away  late  in  the 
afternoon,  and  for  the  first  time  they  could 
see  across  the  wide  expanse  of  forest  lands 
which  stretched  imbroken  to  the  northward 

IS 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

and  westward,  the  low  white  Hne  of  the  great 
backbone  of  the  continent — the  Rockies,  land 
of  mystery  and  adventure  for  bold  souls 
since  history  began  in  this  part  of  our  conti- 
nent. The  boys  stood  silent  for  quite  a 
while,  absorbed  in  the  vision  of  the  distant 
hills  and  the  thoughts  which  the  sight  awak- 
ened in  their  hearts. 

"I'd  like  to  take  the  trail  again  to-night," 
said  Rob,  as  though  to  himself.  "I  can 
hardly  wait." 

"They're  fine  little  old  hills,  aren't  they?" 
said  John.  "I  wish  we  could  go  farther 
toward  them,  every  day.  I  want  to  get  over 
to  where  the  water  starts  west." 

"Yes,"  added  Jesse,  "and  see  where  old 
Yellowhead  himself  made  his  camp  a  hundred 
years  ago." 

"Well,  Jess,"  said  John,  "you  can  go  as 
Yellowhead,  Junior,  maybe,  because  your  hair 
is  sort  of  red,  anyway.  But  I  wonder  where 
Uncle  Dick  and  Moise  have  got  to;  they 
ought  to  be  in  by  now,  with  the  extra  horses 
from  the  village." 

"Trust  Moise  to  be  in  on  time  for  supper," 
said  Rob.  "Come  on  and  let's  get  the  rest 
of  the  wood  for  to-night." 

i6 


ROB,  JOHN,  AND  JESSE  IN  CAMP 

They  turned  now  toward  the  tasks  of  the 
camp,  work  with  which  they  were  famiHar, 
Jesse  carrying  some  more  wood,  and  John, 
whose  turn  it  was  to  bring  in  the  water,  start- 
ing once  more  down  the  steep  slope  to  the 
httle  creek  which  lay  below  them.  Rob,  who 
had  completed  his  portion  of  the  camp  labor, 
still  stood  silent,  apparently  forgetful  of  all 
about  him,  staring  steadily  at  the  low  broken 
line  of  white  which  marked  the  summit  of  the 
Rockies  and  the  head  of  the  great  Athabasca 
River  which  lay  on  beyond  to  the  westward. 


II 

AT  THE  FIRESIDE 

WELL,  well,  young  men!"  broke  out  a 
hearty  voice,  not  long  after  our  young 
friends  had  completed  their  evening's  work 
and  were  seated  near  the  fire.  "How  are  you 
getting  on  ?     Are  the  mosquitoes  pretty  bad  ? ' ' 

"Hello,  Uncle  Dick!"  answered  John.  "We 
thought  it  was  about  time  for  you  to  be  cording 
up." 

"And  about  mosquitoes,"  answered  Jesse, 
brushing  at  his  face,  "I  should  say  they  were 
pretty  bad  for  early  spring." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  to  be  in  for  the  day,"  re- 
marked the  tall,  lean-looking  man  they  all 
called  Uncle  Dick — the  friend  to  whom  they 
owed  so  many  pleasant  and  adventurous  jour- 
neys in  out-of-the-way  parts  of  the  country. 
He  was  dressed  as  the  men  of  the  engineers 
usually  were  in  the  rough  preliminary  survey 
work.     He  wore  a  wide  white  hat,   flannel 

i8 


AT  THE   FIRESIDE 

shirt,  loose  woolen  clothing,  and  high  laced 
boots.  His  face  was  burned  brown  with  the 
suns  of  many  lands,  but  his  blue  eyes  twinkled 
with  a  kindly  light,  which  explained  why  all 
of  these  boys  were  so  fond  of  him. 

"Where's  Moise?"  asked  Rob,  after  a  time, 
assisting  Uncle  Dick  at  unsaddling  his  riding- 
pony. 

"Just  back  on  the  trail  a  way,"  replied  the 
older  member  of  the  party.  "Stuck  in  the 
mud.  Considerable  muskeg  in  here,  believe 
me." 

Presently  they  could  hear  the  voice  of 
Moise,  the  remaining  member  of  their  party, 
who  was  to  go  along  as  cook  and  assistant  with 
the  pack-train.  He  was  singing  in  a  high 
voice  some  odd  Indian  tune,  whose  words 
may  have  been  French;  for  Moise  Richard, 
as  all  our  readers  will  remember  who  followed 
the  fortunes  of  oiu:  yoimg  adventurers  in  their 
trip  along  the  Peace  River,  was  a  French 
halfbreed,  and  a  man  good  either  with  boats 
or  horses. 

"Hello,  Moise!"  cried  the  three  compan- 
ions, as  he  came  into  view,  driving  ahead  of 
him  the  remainder  of  the  pack-train.  They 
pronounced  his  name  as  he  did,  "  Mo-ees". 

19 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

"Hello,  young  mans,"  exclaimed  Moise, 
smiling  as  usual  as  he  slipped  out  of  his 
saddle.  "How  was  you  all,  hein?  I'll  bet 
you  was  glad  to  see  old  Moise.  You  got 
hongree,  what?" 

"Certainly  we  are,"  replied  John  for  all 
three.     "We  always  are." 

"That's  the  truth,"  laughed  Uncle  Dick. 
"Lucky  we've  got  a  couple  of  pack-horses 
apiece,  and  lucky  the  engineers  have  got  some 
supplies  cached  over  there  in  the  Rockies," 

"Well,  some  of  those  new  horse,  she  was 
fool  horse,"  said  Moise.  "She'll  want  to  go 
back  on  his  home,  or  run  off  on  the  bush. 
She's  like  any  fool  pack-horse,  and  don't  want 
to  do  what  he  knows  is  right  worth  a  cent, 
him." 

"Well,  never  mind,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  care- 
lessly. "I  imagine  our  train  will  be  like  all 
pack-trains,  better  when  they  get  settled  down 
to  work.  It's  always  a  lot  of  trouble  until 
they  get  straightened  aroimd  and  shaken 
down  to  the  work." 

"I'll  goin'  to  put  some  bell  on  those  old 
gray  mare  Betsy,"  said  Moise.  "Maybe 
those  fool  horse  will  follow  him,  Betsy.  All 
the  time  six  height   hour,  I've  chase  those 

20 


AT  THE   FIRESIDE 

fool  horse  where  she'll  break  out  and  eat 
grass.  They  make  more  trouble  for  Moise 
than  all  his  eleven,  ten  children  up  on  Peace 
River." 

"I  don't  believe  your  children  are  troubling 
you  very  much  now,  Moise,"  said  Uncle  Dick. 

''No,  my  hooman,  she'll  know  how  to  herd 
those  childrens,"  said  Moise,  calmly.  "  S'pose 
those  baby  start  out  for  eat  grass,  she'll  told 
him,  no,  not  do  that,  and  he'll  learn  pretty 
soon.  Now  if  a  little  baby  can  learn,  why 
can't  a  three-year-old  horse  with  white  eye — 
I'm  going  to  talk  to  that  fool  yellow  horse, 
me,  before  long." 

"Well,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "we'll  get  all  the 
packs  off  now  and  finish  the  camp." 

"Whoa,  there!"  called  out  Moise  to  the 
offending  claybank  cayuse  which  had  caused 
him  most  of  his  trouble  that  afternoon. 
"Hoi'  still  now,  or  Moise,  she'll  stick  his  foot 
in  your  eye." 

But  Uncle  Dick  only  laughed  at  the  threat- 
ening Moise,  knowing  that  in  his  heart  he  was 
kindly.  Indeed,  he  smoothed  down  the  warm 
back  of  the  cayuse  with  a  gentle  hand  when 
he  took  off  the  pack.  Soon  all  the  packs  were 
in  a  row  on  the  ground,  not  far  from  the  fire, 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

each  with  a  cover  thrown  over  the  saddle. 
Our  three  young  companions  helped  put  hob- 
bles on  the  fore-legs  of  the  horses,  and  soon 
all  the  horse  band,  twelve  in  number,  were 
hopping  away  from  the  camp  in  search  of 
grass  and  water.  They  found  the  latter  in  a 
little  slough  a  short  distance  back  on  the  trail, 
and  did  not  attempt  the  steep  descent  to 
Wolf  Creek. 

The  three  young  friends  assisted  in  unpack- 
ing the  animal  which  carried  their  tent  and 
blankets.  They  had  lashed  on  the  cow- 
saddles  of  their  own  riding-horses  the  little 
war-bags  or  kit-bags  of  soft  leather  in  which 
each  boy  carried  his  own  toilet  articles  and 
little  things  for  personal  use.  Their  rifles  and 
rods  they  also  slung  on  their  riding-saddles. 
Now,  with  the  skill  of  long  training,  they  put 
up  their  own  tent,  and  spread  down  their  own 
blanket  beds,  on  the  edge  of  which  they  placed 
their  guns  and  rods,  making  pillows  out  of 
their  folded  sweaters.  Soon  they  were  help- 
ing Moise  with  his  cooking  at  the  fire  and 
enjoying  as  usual  their  evening  conversation 
with  that  cheerful  friend. 

It  did  not  take  Moise,  old-timer  as  he  was, 
very  long  to  get  his  bannocks  and  tea  ready, 


AT  THE   FIRESIDE 

and  to  fry  the  whitefish  and  grouse  which  the 
boys  now  brought  to  him. 

Uncle  Dick  looked  at  his  watch  after  a 
time.     "Forty  minutes,"  said  he. 

"For  what?"  demanded  Jesse. 

"Well,  it  took  us  forty  minutes  to  get  off 
the  packs  and  hobble  the  horses  and  get  sup- 
per ready.  That's  too  long — we  ought  to 
have  it  all  done  and  supper  over  in  that  time. 
We'll  have  to  do  better  than  this  when  we 
get  fully  on  the  trail." 

"What's  the  use  in  being  in  such  a  hurry?" 
demanded  John,  who  was  watching  the  frying- 
pan  very  closely. 

"It's  always  a  good  thing  to  get  the  camp 
work  done  quickly  mornings  and  evenings," 
replied  the  leader  of  the  party.  "We've  got 
a  long  trip  ahead,  and  I'd  like  to  average 
twenty-five  miles  a  day  for  a  while,  if  I  could. 
Maybe  we'll  have  to  content  ourselves  with 
fifteen  miles  a  good  many  days.  The  best 
way  is  to  get  an  early  start  and  make  a 
long  drive,  and  an  early  camp.  Then  get 
your  packs  off  as  early  as  you  can,  and  let 
your  horses  rest  —  that's  always  good  doc- 
trine." 

"Well,  one  thing,"  said  Jesse,  "I  hope  the 

2  23 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

mosquitoes  won't  be  any  worse  than  they  are 
now." 

"Well,"  Uncle  Dick  replied,  "when  we  get 
higher  up  the  nights  will  get  cool  earlier,  but 
we'll  have  mosquitoes  all  the  way  across, 
that's  pretty  sure.  But  you  fellows  mustn't 
mind  a  thing  like  that.  We've  all  got  our 
mosquito  bars  and  tents,  and  very  good  ones 
too." 

"No  good  for  fight  mosquito,"  said  Moise, 
grinning.     "He's  too  many." 

"Oh,  go  on,  Moise,  they  don't  hurt  you  when 
they  bite  you,"  said  John. 

"Nor  will  they  hurt  you  so  badly  after  a 
time,"  Uncle  Dick  said  to  him.  "You  get 
used  to  it — at  least,  to  some  extent.  But  there 
is  something  in  what  Moise  has  told  you — 
don't  fight  mosquitoes  too  hard,  so  that  you 
get  excited  and  nervous  over  it.  Don't  slap 
hard  enough  to  kill  a  dog — just  brush  them  off 
easy.  Take  your  trouble  as  easy  as  you  can  on 
trail — that's  good  advice.  This  isn't  feather- 
bed work,  exactly;  but  then  I  don't  call  you 
boys  tenderfeet,  exactly,  either.  Now  go  and 
finish  the  beds  up  for  the  night  before  it  gets 
too  dark." 

Jesse  crawled  into  the  back  part  of  the  tent 
24 


AT  THE   FIRESIDE 

and  fished  out  three  specially  made  nets,  each 
of  cheesecloth  sewed  to  a  long  strip  of  canvas 
perhaps  six  feet  long  and  two  and  one-half 
feet  wide.  At  each  comer  of  this  canvas  a 
cord  was  sewed,  so  that  it  could  be  tied  to  a 
tent-pole,  or  to  a  safety-pin  stuck  in  the  top 
of  the  tent.  Then  the  sides,  which  were  long 
and  full,  could  be  tucked  in  at  the  edges  of 
the  bed,  so  that  no  mosquitoes  could  get  in. 
Each  boy  had  his  own  net  for  his  own  bed,  so 
that,  if  he  was  careful  in  getting  in  under  the 
net,  he  would  be  pretty  sure  of  sleeping  free 
from  the  mosquitoes,  no  matter  how  bad  they 
were.  Uncle  Dick  had  a  similar  net  for  his 
own  little  shelter-tent.  As  for  Moise,  he  had 
a  head-net  and  a  ragged  piece  of  bar  which 
he  did  not  use  half  the  time,  thinking  it  rather 
beneath  him  to  pay  too  much  attention  to  the 
small  nuisances. 

"You'll  better  go  to  bed  pretty  soon, 
young  mans,"  said  Moise,  speaking  to  his 
yoimg  friends  after  they  had  finished  their 
supper.  "If  those  fly  bite  me,  he'll  got  sick 
of  eating  so  much  smoke,  him.  But  those 
fly,  he  like  to  bite  little  boy."  And  he 
laughed  heartily,  as  he  saw  the  young  com- 
panions continually  brushing  at  their  faces. 

25 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

Uncle  Dick  drew  apart  from  the  camp  at 
the  time  and  went  out  to  the  edge  of  the 
bank,  looking  down  at  the  water  far  below. 

"You  can  bet  that's  a  steep  climb,"  com- 
mented John  —  "two  himdred  feet,  I  should 
think.  And  I  don't  see  how  we'll  get  the 
horses  down  there  in  the  morning." 

"At  least  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet,"  as- 
sented his  uncle.  "But  I  reckon  we  can  get 
across  it  somehow,  if  the  engineers  can  get 
a  railroad  and  trains  of  cars  over  it — and 
that's  what  they're  going  to  do  next  year. 
But,  as  I  have  told  you,  never  worry  until 
the  time  comes  when  you're  on  the  trail. 
The  troubles  '11  come  along  fast  enough,  per- 
haps, without  our  hurrying  them  up  any. 
Take  things  easy — that's  what  gets  engineers 
and  horses  and  railroads  across  the  Rockies." 

"How  long  before  we  get  to  the  Rockies, 
Uncle  Dick?"  inquired  John,  pointing  to  the 
west,  where  the  clouds  had  now  hidden  the 
distant  range  from  view. 

"All  in  due  time,  all  in  due  time,  my  son," 
replied  the  engineer,  smiling  down  at  him. 
"A  good  deal  depends  on  how  quickly  we  can 
make  and  break  camp,  and  how  many  miles 
we  can  get  done  each  day  through  muskeg 

26 


AT  THE   FIRESIDE 

and  bush  and  over  all  sorts  of  trails  and  fords. 
For  instance,  if  we  lost  half  our  horses  in 
Wolf  Creek  here  to-morrow,  we  might  have 
to  make  quite  a  wait.  But  don't  worry — 
just  turn  in  before  the  mosquitoes  get  you." 


Ill 

HITTING   THE   TRAIL 

LOOK  on  the  tent,  fellows!"  exclaimed 
J  Jesse,  the  first  thing  next  morning,  just 
as  dawn  was  beginning  to  break.  "It's  almost 
solid  mosquitoes ! " 

"About  a  million,"  said  John,  sitting  up 
in  his  blankets.  "All  of  them  with  cold  feet, 
waiting  for  the  sun  to  come  up." 

They  were  looking  at  the  top  of  the  tent, 
where  in  the  folds  of  the  netting  a  great  cloud 
of  mosquitoes  had  gathered  in  the  effort  to 
get  through  the  cheese-cloth. 

"Did  any  bite  you  in  the  night,  Jesse?" 
asked  Rob,  from  his  bed. 

"No,  but  I  could  hear  them  sing  a  good 
deal  until  I  went  to  sleep." 

"Well,  come  ahead;  let's  roll  out,"  said 
Rob.  "All  those  mosquitoes  will  come  to 
life  when  it  gets  warm." 

They  kicked  off  the  blankets,  slipped  into 
28 


HITTING  THE  TRAIL 

their  clothing,  and  soon  were  out  in  the  cool 
morning  air.  The  spring  night  had  been  a 
dewy  one,  and  all  the  shrubs  and  grasses  were 
very  wet. 

"Hello  there,  young  mans!"  they  heard  a 
voice  exclaim,  and  saw  Moise's  head  thrust 
out  from  beneath  his  shelter.  "You'll  got 
up  pretty  early,  no?" 

"Well,  we've  got  to  be  moving  early," 
said  Rob.  "Anyway,  we  beat  Uncle  Dick 
up  this  morning." 

"That's  right,"  called  out  the  voice  of 
Uncle  Dick,  from  his  tent,  "but  the  quicker 
we  get  started  the  quicker  we'll  get  over  Wolf 
Creek.  Now  you  boys  go  over  there  where 
you  hear  the  gray  mare's  bell  and  see  if  you 
can  roimd  up  all  the  pack-train.  You'll 
learn  before  long  that  half  the  campaign  of  a 
pack-train  trip  is  hunting  horses  in  the  morn- 
ing. But  they'll  stick  close  where  the  pea- 
vine  is  thick  as  it  is  here." 

Our  three  young  Alaskans  were  used  to  wet 
grass  in  the  morning,  and  after  the  first 
plunge,  which  wet  them  to  the  skin,  they 
did  not  mind  the  dew  -  covered  herbage. 
Soon,  shouting  and  running,  they  were  round- 
ing up  the  hobbled  pack-horses,  which,  with 

29 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

the  usual  difficulty,  they  finally  succeeded  in 
driving  up  close  to  the  camp,  where  by  this 
time  Moise  had  his  fire  going.  The  wilder 
of  the  horses  they  tied  to  trees  near  by,  but 
some  of  the  older  ones  stood  unhitched  with 
heads  drooping  in  the  chill  morning  air,  as 
though  imhappy,  but  resigned  to  their  fate. 
Moise,  as  usual,  rewarded  old  gray  Betsy, 
the  bell-mare,  with  a  limip  of  sugar  as  she 
passed  by.  The  others,  with  the  strange 
instinct  of  pack-horses  to  follow  a  leader, 
grouped  themselves  near  to  the  old  white 
mare.  The  boys  put  the  blankets  over  the 
backs  of  some  of  the  horses  while  waiting 
for  Moise  to  finish  his  breakfast. 

"Grub  pile!"  sung  out  Moise,  after  awhile; 
and  soon,  in  the  damp  morning  air,  with  white 
mist  hanging  over  the  low  land  about  them, 
they  were  eating  their  morning  meal. 

"Tea  for  breakfast,"  said  Rob,  smiling. 
"Well,  I  suppose  it's  all  right  up  here,  but  in 
our  cotmtry  we  mostly  have  coffee." 

"We'd  have  it  here  if  we  could  get  it  good," 
said  Uncle  Dick;  "but,  you  see,  we're  a  good 
ways  from  home,  and  coffee  doesn't  keep  as 
well  as  tea  on  the  trail,  besides  being  much 
bulkier." 

30 


HITTING  THE  TRAIL 

"Now,"  said  Jesse,  his  mouth  full  of  bacon, 
"as  soon  as  I  get  done  breakfast  I'm  going 
to  try  that  diamond  hitch  all  over  again. 
Moise  says  the  one  I  did  yesterday  slipped 
on  him." 

"That's  happened  to  many  a  good  packer," 
said  Uncle  Dick.  "Sometimes  a  pack  gets 
snagged  in  the  bush,  or  all  sorts  of  other 
things  may  happen  to  it.  They  tell  me  that 
a  mule  will  look  at  two  trees  and  not  try  to 
go  between  them  if  it  sees  the  pack  won't 
squeeze  through,  but  with  some  of  these 
northern  cayuses  I  think  they  try  to  see  how 
many  times  they  can  crowd  through  between 
trees  and  scrape  off  their  packs.  But  finish 
your  breakfast,  young  men,  and  eat  plenty, 
because  we're  going  to  have  a  long  trip  to- 
day." 

After  they  had  finished  breakfast  Rob  led 
up  the  big  roan  Billy,  which  always  went  next 
to  the  gray  lead-mare  with  the  mare,  and  on 
which  they  usually  packed  their  blankets  and 
small  tent.  Billy  stood  quite  calmly,  but 
with  his  head  and  ears  depressed,  as  though 
feeling  very  sad. 

"Ready  with  those  blanket  packs  now, 
boys,"  called  Uncle  Dick;  and  soon  they  had 

31 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

them  alongside,  each  bed  rolled  in  its  canvas 
covering. 

"Now  up  with  the  saddle,  Rob." 

Rob  threw  the  sawbuck  pack-saddle  on  top 
of  the  padded  blanket. 

"Cinch  tight — that's  half  in  packing,  to 
have  the  saddle  firm." 

And,  following  Uncle  Dick's  instruction,  Rob 
made  the  cinch  as  tight  as  he  could. 

"Now  get  on  the  off  side,"  said  Uncle  Dick; 
"and  Jesse,  you  watch  us,  how  we  work. 
You  can  all  help  if  you  want  to. 

"Are  your  sling -ropes  all  ready,  Rob?" 
he  inquired  next.  "Of  course,  you  see,  the 
sling -ropes  simply  act  like  baskets  on  each 
side  the  pack  -  saddle.  They  only  support, 
and  don't  make  fast. 

"Now  then,  up  with  your  side  packs  into 
your  sling-ropes — so — that's  all  right.  Then 
the  top  pack  on  over  the  saddle,  fitting  well 
between  the  two  side  packs.  Shake  them  all 
down  so  to  fit  tight  together.  Now  throw 
the  canvas  cover  over  the  top,  and  see  that 
nothing  is  where  it  will  get  busted  when  you 
cinch  up. 

"There,  now,  that's  all  right  as  far  as  it 
goes.     Next  we  come  to  the  one  part  of  pack- 

32 


HITTING  THE  TRAIL 

ing  more  important  than  anything  else.  It 
is  the  hitch  which  holds  everything  together. 
We're  going  to  throw  the  diamond  hitch  now. 
Without  that,  folks  couldn't  have  settled 
this  western  country  or  built  railroads  over 
the  Rockies,  maybe." 

"Who  first  invented  the  diamond  hitch, 
Uncle  Dick?"  queried  Rob. 

"Nobody  knows,  but  it's  Spanish,  that's 
sure,  and  not  Canadian.  It  got  up  this  far 
north  on  both  sides  of  the  Rockies,  brought 
by  miners  and  packers  of  all  colors  and  nation- 
alities. Originally  it  came  from  Mexico,  and 
it  came  there  from  Spain,  and  perhaps  it 
came  to  Spain  from  northern  Africa — who 
knows? — along  with  the  cow-horse  itself." 

"But  they  don't  always  throw  it  the  same 
way." 

"No,  there  are  several  different  throws  of 
the  diamond  hitch,  all  of  them  good.  The  one 
I'll  show  you  was  showed  me  by  an  old  car- 
gador  in  California.  Now  watch  carefully 
how  it  is  done,  for  it  is  easier  to  see  it  than 
to  tell  about  it. 

"Now,  here  we  have  the  long  rope  which 
makes  the  hitch.  Some  packers  throw  the 
loose  end  out  over  the  back  of  the  horse. 

33 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

We'll  just  let  it  point  the  other  way — leave  it 
tied  to  the  horse's  neck  if  you  want. 

"At  the  other  end  of  the  rope  is  our  cinch- 
band,  and  the  cinch-hook  at  the  other  end  of 
the  band  or  girth.  It's  made  out  of  wood 
or  horn  sometimes.  Now,  Rob,  I  am  going 
to  pass  the  belly-band  under  the  horse.  Catch 
the  hook  when  it  comes  through.  Are  you 
all  right  now?" 

"Yes,  I've  got  it,"  answered  Rob. 

"Very  well — you're  the  off-side  packer,  for 
it  takes  two  to  pack  a  horse.  Now  watch 
closely,  all  of  you,  at  what  comes  next.  You 
see  Rob  has  the  hook  in  his  hand  and  I  have 
the  rest  of  the  rope  in  my  hand.  Now  I 
double  the  rope  and  throw  it  over  the  top  of 
the  pack  to  Rob,  and  he  hooks  the  bight  of  the 
doubled  rope  over  the  cinch-hook.  Got  that 
all  right  now?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Rob,  "I've  got  it  hooked. 
That's  easy  so  far." 

"Well,  now  it  isn't  going  to  be  quite  so 
easy.  I've  known  lots  of  intelligent  men  who 
never  could  get  this  thing  straight  in  their 
heads  at  all.  Now  watch  how  I  pull  this 
doubled  rope  toward  me  across  the  top  of  the 
pack.     The  long  end,  on  the  left,  is  free,  and 

34 


HITTING  THE  TRAIL 

I  tighten  the  right-hand  leg  of  the  rope. 
Now,  you  see  I  pass  the  left-hand  leg  under 
the  right-hand  in  another  long  loop,  or  bight — 
this  way,  see.  Now  I  can  enlarge  that  loop 
by  pulling  some  of  the  free  end  of  the  rope 
through,  can't  I?  I  leave  it  all  loose,  because 
we  don't  pull  things  up  until  we  get  the  whole 
hitch  thrown  and  set. 

"Now  I  pull  my  big  loose  loop  out  toward 
the  rear  of  the  pack  on  my  side.  And  I  just 
twist  the  loop  over,  side  for  side,  imtil  you 
see  it  bind  or  twist  in  the  middle  on  top  the 
pack.  That's  the  important  thing.  Now  I 
run  the  right-hand  side  of  my  loop  on  the 
right-hand  lower  comer  of  my  side  pack. 
Then  I  carry  it  under  the  bottom  of  the  side 
pack  and  around  the  lower  comer  in  front. 
I  just  tighten  it  up  a  httle,  as  I  do  this. 

"Now,  Rob,  it's  your  tum.  You  take  hold 
of  the  free  end  of  the  rope  which  I  have 
tossed  over  to  you.  It  runs  from  the  twist 
on  top  of  the  pack  to  your  left-hand  lower 
comer,  and  under  your  side  pack  and  up  to 
me  aroimd  your  right-hand  lower  comer. 

"Now  you  might  say  that  your  diamond  is 
laid,  and  that  you  are  ready  to  cinch  up. 
The  ropes  will  bind  first  where  they  cross  on 

35 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

top,  and  tighten  all  the  way  back  to  the  end 
of  the  cinch  -  hook  on  the  off  side.  When 
everything  is  made  fast,  the  last  end  of  the 
rope — which,  by  the  way,  we  will  have  to 
untie  from  our  horse's  neck — comes  over, 
finishes  the  diamond  hitch,  and  is  made  fast 
at  my  cinch-ring  on  the  near  side.  We  begin 
at  the  cinch-hook  and  finish  at  the  cinch-ring, 
on  the  other  side. 

"Now  then,  we  begin  to  cinch.  I  begin 
when  you  call  '  cinch ! '  That  means  that  you 
have  put  your  foot  into  old  Billy  and  pulled 
the  first  leg  of  the  rope  up  right  in  the  cinch- 
hook.  I  gather  up  your  slack  and  I  tighten 
it  all  the  way  around  the  comers  of  my  pack 
and  back  over  the  top.  It  is  now  up  to  you 
to  cinch  again,  with  your  foot  in  the  pack,  as 
I  did  here  just  a  little.  That  tightens  all 
the  slack  clear  to  your  comers.  Now  when 
your  rope  comes  back  to  me  for  the  last 
tightening  I  haul  it  hard  as  I  can  and  tie 
off  at  my  cinch-ring.  I  use  a  knot  which  I 
can  jerk  loose  easily  if  I  want  to  tighten  or 
loosen  the  pack  on  the  trail.  So,  there  you 
are,  all  set."  And  Uncle  Dick  slapped  old 
Billy  on  the  hip  as  he  stood  groaning  in 
great  pretense  of  suffering,  at  which  old  Billy 

36 


HITTING  THE  TRAIL 

walked  forward  a  few  steps  and  stood  still, 
awaiting  the  next  victim  in  the  train. 

"That's  tight  as  a  drum,"  said  Jesse, 
pushing  at  the  loaded  packs. 

"Humph,  you  mean  that  old  Billy's  tight 
as  a  dnmi,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "An  old  pack- 
horse  will  groan  as  though  you  were  killing 
him,  and  will  blow  up  like  a  homed  toad. 
Then  maybe  a  half -hour  later  on  the  trail  all 
his  ropes  will  be  as  loose  as  if  he  had  lost  a 
year's  growth.  We'll  have  to  go  over  all 
these  packs  just  before  we  start  down  that 
bank,  or  we  may  lose  some  of  them.  That's 
why  we  fastened  the  last  end  of  the  hitch 
with  a  loop  easy  to  pull  out. 

"A  good  pack-master,"  said  Uncle  Dick, 
«"is  worth  as  much  as  a  colonel  in  an  army. 
He  never  has  sore-backed  horses,  because  he 
makes  up  his  packs  well  and  keeps  them 
tight.  A  shifting,  wabbling  pack  is  bad  for 
the  horse.  Why,  you  can  pack  almost  any- 
thing on  a  horse — they  even  took  pianos 
on  slings  between  four  pack-horses  in  some  of 
the  mountain  mining  -  camps  in  Montana. 
And  what  do  you  suppose  was  the  hardest 
thing  the  old  pack-train  men  had  to  carry- 
in  those  days?" 

37 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

' '  I  don't  know, ' '  said  Rob,  curiously.  ' '  What 
was  it?" 

"Quicksilver.  That  made  more  sore  backs 
than  anything  else.  They  carried  it  in  flasks, 
and  the  jar  or  blow  of  the  heavy  liquid 
shifting  from  side  to  side  was  bad  on  the 
horses.  Finally  they  used  to  nest  these  iron 
flasks  in  sideboards,  which  they  could  lash 
tight  to  the  saddles.  This  kept  the  sloshing  of 
the  quicksilver  from  hurting  the  horses  so 
much.  Oh,  they  had  all  sorts  of  curious  ways 
of  packing  curious  things.  But  a  good  pack- 
train  would  carry  almost  anjrthing,  from  a 
cook-stove  to  a  chandelier,  and  not  break 
either.  They  used  different  hitches,  but  the 
one  I  have  showed  you  is  about  as  simple 
and  useful  as  any.  Well,  drive  up  the  next 
horse  now,  Jess." 

Thus,  one  after  another,  they  finished  load- 
ing up  their  pack-train ;  and,  Moise  having  put 
his  camp  outfit  and  his  personal  equipment 
on  the  last  horse,  they  stood  ready  for  the  trail. 

"It  '11  be  pretty  bad  getting  down  here," 
said  Uncle  Dick,  "so  I'll  go  ahead  with  old 
Betsy.  All  you  others  had  better  stay  behind 
and  drive  the  loose  horses  down  over  the 
bank.     Don't  let  them  break  back  on  the 

38 


HITTING  THE  TRAIL 

trail.    Are  you  ready?    Just  watch  how  I  take 
it,  and  don't  be  afraid." 

So  saying,  setting  spurs  to  his  saddle-pony 
and  pulling  on  the  lariat  of  old  Betsy,  Uncle 
Dick  disappeared  over  the  edge  of  the  steep 
bank.  His  hardy  little  animal  clapped  its 
feet  close  together  and  almost  slid  down  the 
long  muddy  incline.  Old  Betsy  calmly  fol- 
lowed, and  by  the  time  the  first  horse  was 
at  the  bottom  of  the  deep  and  narrow  valley 
the  boys  with  much  shouting  and  urging  had 
started  others  of  the  band  down  the  incline 
also.  Uncle  Dick  boldly  plunged  into  the 
stream,  which  was  not  very  wide  or  very 
deep  at  that  time.  By  the  time  he  was 
struggling  up  the  opposite  bank  the  last  of 
the  train,  followed  by  the  young  trailers,  was 
making  its  way  down  the  first  slope.  One 
by  one,  the  horses  splashed  methodically 
across  the  little  stream  and  began  the  long 
and  slow  ascent  up  the  farther  side,  a  climb 
of  more  than  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet,  which 
Uncle  Dick  made  easier  by  two  or  three  zig- 
zags, turning  at  points  where  little  trees  made 
it  possible.  So  at  last  they  all  fotmd  them- 
selves on  the  farther  side  of  the  steep  Wolf 
Creek  valley. 

3  39 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

"Hurrah!"  said  John,  pulling  off  his  cap 
and  waving  it  about  his  head  as  he  rode  up. 
"That  was  fine,  wasn't  it?  I  was  a  good  deal 
scared  about  it,  but  we  got  through  all  right." 

"And  I  call  it  mighty  well  done  for  you 
young  men,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  approvingly. 
"We've  got  every  pack  with  us,  and  now  we'll 
see  if  any  of  them  need  tightening  up.  We'll 
not  have  many  crossings  worse  than  this, 
I'm  thinking.  For  two  or  three  days  we'll  be 
among  these  steep  valleys,  where  the  rivers 
have  cut  regular  troughs,  mostly  north  and 
south.  But  I  don't  think  there  will  be  any 
worse  muskeg  than  we've  had  already." 

"Well,"  said  Rob,  "this  wasn't  nearly  as 
bad  as  the  Pembina  crossing  back  yonder." 

"No,  that  was  three  hundred  feet  down 
and  a  hundred  yards  of  water.  Lucky  the 
water  was  low,  or  we'd  be  there  yet.  And, 
you  may  believe  me,  the  engineers  will  have 
a  considerable  bridge  to  build  before  they 
get  over  that  river  and  a  lot  of  these  others. 
If  we  were  two  months  later  we'd  have  to 
swim  a  lot  of  these  streams,  and  that's  some- 
thing I  don't  want  with  a  pack-train." 

"Well,"  said  John,  "when  are  we  going 
to  eat  limch?" 

40 


HITTING  THE  TRAIL 

They  all  laughed  at  John,  who  was  always 
anxious  about  times  and  places  for  eating. 

"We  don't  eat  lunch,  young  man,  until 
we  get  our  breakfast  settled,  anyhow,"  said 
Uncle  Dick. 

"And  where  is  the  next  bad  crossing?" 
inquired  Jesse. 

"Ten  or  twelve  miles  ahead,  I  suppose," 
said  Uncle  Dick.  "That's  the  McLeod  River, 
and  I  confess  I'll  be  happy  when  we  get 
beyond  it.  The  railway  survey  nms  on  this 
side,  but  the  old  trail  crosses  it  and  nms  on 
the  north  side,  and  we  have  to  follow  the 
trail." 

"Suppose  we  get  to  Moose  Creek  in  two 
or  three  hour,"  said  Moise.  "Then  in  about 
one  or  two  hour  we  come  on  the  McLeod 
where  we'll  ford  it.  Then  seven  or  height 
mile  good  trail,  we'll  come  on  those  Big 
Eddy.  Those  was  good  place  for  camp  to- 
night, s'pose  we'll  all  get  there  and  not  any 
of  us  drowned." 

"I  don't  think  any  of  us  '11  drown,  Moise," 
said  Uncle  Dick,  quietly;  "we're  not  going 
to  take  any  chances  unless  we  have  to.  Well, 
if  you're  all  ready  we  might  push  on." 

Uncle  Dick  now  once  more  led  the  way, 
41 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

followed  close  by  old  Betsy,  Billy  following 
her  close  and  next  in  order.  The  young  clay- 
bank  horse,  which  made  Moise  so  much 
trouble,  now  undertook  to  usurp  a  place  just 
back  of  Betsy  instead  of  falling  to  the  rear 
of  the  train  where  he  belonged.  But  as  he 
approached  meek-looking  old  Billy,  the  latter 
laid  back  his  ears  and  kicked  violently  at 
the  claybank,  hitting  him  in  the  shoulder  a 
resoimding  thwack. 

"Aha!  you  fool  horse,"  said  Moise  to  the 
offending  claybank,  "that's  what  you'll  get 
for  not  know  your  place  on  the  train.  S'pose 
you  got  back  now  where  you  belong,  eh?" 

By  this  time  the  horses  for  the  most  part, 
however,  were  learning  their  places  on  the 
trail,  and  in  a  very  few  days  later  each  horse 
had  his  own  place,  of  which  he  was  very 
jealous,  resenting  any  attempt  to  take  it 
away  from  him  by  vicious  bites  or  kicks. 
How  or  why  pack-horses  regulate  their  own 
affairs  in  this  way  no  one  can  tell,  but  our 
young  friends  had  occasion  to  see  it  proved 
in  their  own  travel. 

Their  trail  now  led  through  rather  sharply 
rolling  country,  covered  with  poplar  or  jack- 
pine  groves,  with  now  and  then  a  bit  of  soft 

42 


HITTING  THE  TRAIL 

bog  at  the  foot  of  little  valleys.  At  times 
from  little  heights  of  land  they  could  get  a 
glimpse  of  the  wide  flat  country  extending 
on  either  side,  for  the  most  part  covered  with 
dark  forest  growth.  Not  meeting  any  serious 
trouble  with  muskegs,  they  were  all  pretty 
well  used  to  the  trail  by  the  time  they  had 
crossed  Moose  Creek. 

"We  won't  stop  here,"  said  Uncle  Dick. 
"Get  up,  Danny,"  and  he  urged  his  saddle- 
horse  forward.  "I  want  to  see  about  that 
McLeod  crossing." 

It  was  afternoon,  and  in  truth  every  one 
was  a  little  tired  when  at  length  they  came 
to  the  deep  valley  of  the  McLeod  River,  the 
next  stream  to  run  north  into  the  Athabasca. 
They  found  the  banks  steep,  more  than  one 
hundred  feet  to  the  narrow  valley  below;  but, 
thanks  to  the  earliness  of  the  season,  the 
river  itself  was  not  very  deep,  and  the  point 
of  the  ford  was  so  well  chosen  by  the  old  trail- 
makers  that  they  got  across  the  river  without 
having  to  swim  and  scarcely  wetting  the 
packs.  Uncle  Dick  was  exceedingly  glad  of 
this,  for  he  knew  the  sudden  rises  which  come 
in  all  of  these  streams.  "Now,"  he  said, 
"we're  all  right,  and  it's  good  going  to  the 

43 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

Big  Eddy  —  not  more  than  eight  miles,  I 
think." 

They  found  the  trail  easier  here  for  a  time, 
passing  over  grassy  glades,  where  the  horses 
very  much  wanted  to  stop  to  eat,  but  after 
a  long  and  a  rather  hard  day's  drive  they 
finally  pulled  up  in  the  early  evening  at  the 
double  bend  of  the  McLeod  River,  known  as 
the  Big  Eddy. 

"Now  then,  John,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  as  he 
swung  off  his  saddle  at  the  camping-place, 
"you  hustle  out  your  fishing-rod  and  go 
down  there  to  the  eddy  and  see  if  you  can 
get  us  a  trout  for  supper.  The  rest  of  us 
will  take  care  of  the  camp." 

"Yes,"  said  Moise,  "those  bull-trout,  she'll 
got  big  in  that  eddy,  him — sometimes  we'll 
caught  him  seven,  height,  eleven  pound  long." 

"Well,  that  '11  suit  me,"  said  John,  "I 
don't  care  how  big  they  come."  So  saying, 
he  picked  up  his  rod  from  the  saddle  of  his 
riding-pony  and,  feeling  for  the  reel  in  his 
pocket,  began  to  joint  and  string  the  rod  as 
he  passed  down  the  bank. 

The  others  had  not  been  working  very  long 
at  fixing  the  camp  before  they  heard  a  shout 
from   John,    far   below   them.     Uncle    Dick 

44 


HITTING  THE  TRAIL 

chuckled.  ''Shouldn't  wonder  if  he'd  got 
hold  of  one  of  them,"  said  he.  "Better  go 
and  see,  Rob — you  and  Jesse."  The  other 
boys  ran  out  of  cover  into  an  open  place  from 
which  they  could  see  John  at  the  side  of 
the  deep  eddy  where  he  had  begun  fishing. 
Rob  gave  a  big  shout.  "He's  got  one,  sure!" 
He  could  see  John's  rod  bending  strongly, 
while  John  himself  was  walking  up  and 
down,  making  excited  motions,  looking  back 
over  his  shoulder.  The  two  ran  down  to  him 
as  fast  as  they  could.  "What's  the  matter, 
John?"  demanded  Rob,  laughing,  as  he  saw 
his  friend's  excited  actions. 

"Well,  by  Jiminy!  I've  got  a  whale,  near's 
I  can  make  out,"  answered  John,  excitedly. 
"I  just  threw  in  over  in  that  slack  water — 
baited  with  a  piece  of  grouse,  you  know, 
not  having  anjrthing  else — and  pretty  soon 
he  nailed  it.  I've  been  walking  him  aroimd 
in  there  for  quite  a  while,  and  can't  do 
anything  with  him.  He  seems  as  big  as  a 
salmon  up  in  Alaska." 

"It's  partly  the  current  makes  him  pull  so 
hard , "  said  Rob .  ' '  Work  him  over  here  toward 
this  bank  in  the  quiet  water,  if  you  can." 

"He  don't  cut  up  much,"  said  Jesse. 

45 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

"No,"  said  John,  "he  just  goes  down  and 
chugs  with  his  head,  Hke  he  wanted  to  break 
something.  But  I've  got  on  a  big  hook,  and 
we'll  pretty  near  get  this  fellow  before  we're 
done.  I  wish  I  hadn't  forgot  my  landing-net. 
But  I  didn't  know  there'd  be  any  as  big  as 
this  one." 

"Well,  lead  him  in,  John,"  said  Rob, 
bending  down  at  the  water's  edge  and  waiting 
for  the  fish  to  approach. 

John  tried  several  times  to  comply,  but 
whenever  the  big  fish  saw  his  captors  he 
would  rush  off  again  for  deep  water.  They 
could  see  his  big  olive-green  back,  broad  as 
a  hand,  as  the  fish  broke  water  close  to  them 
sometimes.  At  length,  after  a  long  and  hard 
fight,  John  succeeded  in  leading  the  fish  close 
to  the  shore,  where  Rob  lay  waiting.  It  did 
not  seem  to  mind  the  touch  of  Rob's  fingers 
as  he  ran  his  hand  under  it.  At  length,  with 
a  quick  clutch,  he  caught  it  by  the  gills  and 
flung  it  out  on  the  bank. 

"Bull-trout,"  said  he;  "they  used  to  call 
him  Salmo  malma,  I  think,  down  in  the 
States.  He'll  weigh  eight  pounds,  anyhow. 
Well,  John,  you  certainly  got  supper  enough 
for  us  all  this  time." 

46 


HITTING  THE  TRAIL 

"Well,  that's  what  they  told  me  to  do," 
said  John,  proudly,  ''and  I'm  hungry  enough 
to  eat  him  all  by  himself." 

"We'll  just  clean  and  wash  him  down  here 
at  the  water,"  said  Rob,  "so  that  he'll  be  all 
ready  to  cook."  And  for  boys  as  much  ac- 
quainted with  large  fish  as  these  young 
Alaskans  were  through  their  experience  with 
large  trout  and  salmon  in  their  own  country, 
this  was  a  matter  of  no  more  than  a  few  min- 
utes' work;  so  soon  they  were  climbing  up 
the  bank  with  their  fish  all  ready  for  the  pan. 

"Well  done,  you  boy!"  said  Moise,  smiHng 
when  he  saw  their  success.  "She  was  good 
big  bull-trout,  yes,  and  she'll  fry  good  in  the 
pork  to-night." 

"Yes,  young  men,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "I 
think  you've  done  very  well  to-day.  We've 
got  over  two  bad  crossings,  made  over  twenty 
miles  of  hard  trail,  and  caught  fish  enough 
for  supper,  all  between  sun  and  sun.  If  we 
do  this  well  every  day  we'll  go  through  in 
great  style." 


IV 

WESTWARD   HO 

IT  was  very  early  in  the   morning  when 
the  boys  heard  Uncle   Dick   calling  from 
his  tent. 

' '  Hello,  there,  young  men !   Are  you  awake?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Jesse,  but  so  sleepily  that 
Uncle  Dick  laughed. 

"It's  a  shame  to  wake  you  up  so  early. 
How  are  you?" 

"All  right,  except  my  knees  are  a  little  sore 
from  riding  so  long  yesterday." 

"Well,  if  you'll  all  roll  out,  I'll  explain 
why  I'm  anxious  to  make  so  early  a  start." 

"Yes,  Uncle  Dick,"  grumbled  John,  rolling 
over  in  his  blankets;  "you  always  want  to 
make  an  early  start,  and  you've  always  got 
some  reason." 

Uncle  Dick  laughed  and  called  Moise  from 
his  tent.  "Well,  I'll  tell  you,"  said  he. 
"We've  got  to  make  the  Leavings  to-day." 

48 


WESTWARD  HO 

"The  Leavings — what's  that?"  asked  Rob. 

"I'll  tell  you  at  breakfast,"  said  Uncle 
Dick.  "Now  hustle  out  and  get  the  horses 
up." 

In  half  an  hour  they  were  all  at  breakfast, 
the  better  for  some  warm  food  and  a  cup  of 
tea.  "Now  I'll  tell  you,"  said  Uncle  Dick, 
"why  I'm  in  a  hurry  to-day.  If  we  can 
make  the  Leavings  by  night,  we'll  have  a 
good  camp-ground  with  plenty  of  grass  for 
the  horses.  Besides,  it  gives  us  a  good  start- 
ing-place for  the  next  day's  march." 

"But  the  'Leavings' — ^what  is  that  or  what 
are  they?"  demanded  Rob. 

"It's  the  old  traders'  name  for  the  place 
where  the  trail  leaves  the  AIcLeod  River  and 
starts  west  for  the  Athabasca." 

Rob  fished  his  map  out  of  his  pocket.  "I 
see,"  said  he.  "The  river  bends  south  from 
here,  and  I  suppose  we  go  up  the  Sun  Dance 
Creek  and  cut  across  to  the  other  end  of  the 
bend — the  place  they  call  White  Mud  Creek. 
Then  we  hang  to  the  McLeod  straight  on  to 
the  Leavings?" 

"  That's  right.  It's  the  best  part  of  twenty- 
five  miles,  but  it's  a  good  trail  and  not  much 
muskeg." 

49 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

''Well,  what  is  a  muskeg,  anyhow,"  asked 
Jesse,  "unless  it's  just  a  mud-hole?" 

"That's  precisely  what  it  is — just  a  mud- 
hole,"  answered  Uncle  Dick.  "Under  a  mus- 
keg there  is  clay  or  hardpan  which  won't  let 
the  water  through.  So  it  is  always  full  of 
mud.  Drain  the  water  off  a  muskeg,  and  it 
soon  gets  dry.  They'll  have  to  do  a  lot  of 
that  work  up  here  one  of  these  days.  But 
now  I've  told  you  why  I  want  to  make  an 
early  start  this  morning;  and  I  want  you  to 
help  hustle  with  the  packs  too.  It's  time 
you're  learning  about  that  diamond  hitch." 

"All  right,"  said  Rob,  "we'll  take  half  the 
horses,  and  you  and  Moise  take  the  other  half. 
Mollycoddles  are  no  good  on  the  trail." 

"They're  no  good  anywhere.  And  the  way 
to  learn  to  do  a  thing  is  to  do  it.  Rob,  take 
the  off  side  of  the  first  horse,  and  let  John  see 
if  he  can  remember  how  to  throw  the  hitch 
on  the  near  side." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  you  are.  Uncle  Dick," 
said  John,  leaving  the  fire  with  a  piece  of 
bannock  still  in  his  hand. 

"Well,  what  then?"  smiled  Uncle  Dick. 

"You're  not  an  engineer — you're  a  con- 
tractor!    That's  what  you  are." 

50 


WESTWARD  HO 

"It  comes  to  the  same  thing.  You'll  have 
to  learn  how  men  work  in  the  open  and  get 
the  big  things  done  through  doing  little 
things  well." 

The  boys  now  busied  themselves  about 
their  first  horse.  After  a  while,  with  consid- 
erable trouble  and  a  little  study,  Rob  turned 
to  Uncle  Dick.  "How's  that  for  the  cinch, 
sir?"  he  asked. 

Uncle  Dick  tried  to  run  his  finger  under  the 
lash-hook  and  nodded  approvingly. 

"Didn't  it  hurt  him  awfully?"  asked  Jesse. 
"He  groaned  as  though  it  did." 

"Don't  believe  all  the  groans  of  a  pack- 
horse  in  camp,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "Try  the 
girth  a  half-mile  out  on  trail.  But  now  hurry 
up  with  the  next  ones.  That's  right,  John, 
you're  throwing  the  cross  loop  all  right. 
That's  right — just  remember  to  fix  the  hitch 
so  it  draws  every  way — and  don't  forget  to 
pull  it  tight." 

The  boys  got  on  very  well  with  their  pack- 
ing until  they  came  to  the  claybank  horse 
which  had  given  Moise  so  much  trouble. 
This  one  proved  still  rather  wild,  snorting 
and  jumping  about  when  they  tried  to  put  a 
blanket  and  saddle  on  him. 

51 


YOUNG  ALASBCANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

''What  are  we  going  to  do  with  him,  Uncle 
Dick?"  asked  Rob.  ''The  three  of  us  can 
hardly  hold  him." 

"Oh,  that's  easy.  Tie  him  to  a  tree  and 
put  this  blinder  over  his  eyes."  He  kicked 
toward  Rob  a  heavy  piece  of  leather  semi- 
circular in  form  and  with  a  thong  tied  at 
the  comers.  Rob  picked  it  up,  and  after 
studying  it  for  a  moment  dropped  the  blinder 
over  the  claybank's  face.  To  his  surprise 
the  horse  now  stood  quite  still. 

"Well,  what  do  you  know  about  that? 
He  thinks  he's  blind!"  said  Rob„ 

"Never  mind  what  he  thinks.  Just  go 
ahead  and  pack  him." 

Very  much  to  their  surprise,  the  boys  foimd 
that  as  long  as  the  claybank  had  the  blinder 
over  his  eyes  he  stood  quite  patient  and  docile, 
not  making  any  protest  against  the  saddle  or 
packs,  although  when  they  removed  the 
blinder  he  snorted  and  kicked  about  quite 
a  bit,  testing  thoroughly  the  hitch -rope  by 
which  he  had  been  made  fast.  When  the 
time  came  to  start,  however,  he  had  once 
more  changed  his  mind,  and  took  his  place 
meekly  at  the  end  of  the  train. 

Meantime  Moise  had  started  up  all  the 
52 


WESTWARD  HO 

saddle-ponies,  and  the  boys,  slinging  their 
rifles  and  other  gear  to  the  saddles,  all  were 
soon  mounted  and  on  the  trail  even  before 
the  sun  was  fifteen  minutes  high. 

"Well,  that's  what  I  call  work,"  said  John. 
"I  don't  know  but  I'd  rather  travel  in  a  boat 
than  go  this  way.  You  don't  have  to  saddle 
up  a  boat  every  morning  and  hustle  around 
to  keep  from  getting  tramped  on." 

"Ah,  but  there's  nothing  like  the  moim- 
tains,  fellows,"  said  Rob;  "and  a  pack-train 
will  take  us  right  into  the  middle  of  them." 

"Well,  the  nights  are  so  short  away  up 
here  north  in  Canada  and  Alaska  that  a  fellow 
has  to  go  to  bed  in  the  daylight  and  get  up 
in  the  dark.  If  you  don't  watch  out  you'll 
get  fooled  out  of  your  night's  sleep." 

"You  will  if  you  don't  watch  Uncle  Dick," 
said  Rob,  smiling. 

"Well,  anyhow,  you've  done  several  good 
days'  work  already.  From  this  time  on  we'll 
have  it  easier — maybe." 

"What  do  you  suppose  he  means  by  that? " 
asked  John  of  Rob. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Rob,  "but  we'll  find 
out  to-morrow — maybe." 


V 

HIGHER   THAN   THE   ROCKIES 

HOW  far  to-day,  sir?"  asked  Rob  of  the 
leader  of  their  party,  when,  having 
left  their  camp  on  the  bank  of  the  McLeod 
at  the  spot  known  as  the  Leavings,  they  had 
headed  straight  west  toward  the  steep  divide 
which  rose  before  them. 

"That  all  depends  on  luck,"  said  Uncle 
Dick.  "We've  got  to  climb  that  divide  and 
get  down  off  the  top  of  it.  By  noon  we'll 
be  higher  than  the  Rocky  Mountains!" 
"That  isn't  possible,  of  course." 
"I  didn't  say  higher  than  the  highest  peak 
in  the  Rocky  Mountains.  But  as  a  matter  of 
fact  on  top  of  the  divide  between  the  McLeod 
and  the  Athabasca  we  are  four  thousand 
six  hundred  and  forty  feet  above  sea-level, 
and  that  is  nine  htmdred  and  seventeen  feet 
higher  than  the  summit  of  the  Yellowhead 
Pass  where  we  cross  the  Rockies. 

54 


HIGHER  THAN  THE   ROCKIES 

"It  doesn't  look  like  a  very  easy  trail," 
said  Rob. 

"No,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  one  of  the  most 
dismal  and  desolate  parts  of  the  whole  march, 
with  its  burned  forests  and  its  steep  grades. 
Besides,  some  of  the  worst  muskeg  in  the 
country  is  on  each  side  of  this  Athabasca 
divide — it  just  runs  in  terraces  all  up  and 
down  both  sides." 

"When  does  the  first  one  come?"  asked 
Rob. 

"Just  before  we  get  ready  for  it!  But  if 
you  don't  discover  when  we  get  there  I'll 
let  you  know.  To  my  notion,  this  looks  con- 
siderable like  a  muskeg  just  on  ahead  of  us. 
Now  we'll  take  a  little  lesson  in  muskeg 
work.  What  I  want  to  say  to  you  is,  that 
you  must  never  get  angry  and  excited,  either 
over  muskeg  or  mosquitoes.  Take  it  easy 
all  the  time." 

They  paused  now  at  the  edge  of  what 
seemed  a  thicket  covered  with  low  bushes, 
which  rose  above  green  moss  and  tufts  of 
grasses.  In  places  the  swamp  looked  as 
though  it  would  hold  up  either  a  man  or  a 
horse.  None  the  less,  the  boys  could  see  where 
long  ago  an  attempt  had  been  made  to  cor- 

4  55 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

dxiroy  the  bog.  Some  of  the  poles  and  logs, 
broken  in  the  middle,  stuck  up  out  of  the  mud. 
A  black  seam,  filled  with  broken  bits  of  poles, 
trampled  moss  and  bushes,  and  oozing  mud, 
showed  the  direction  of  the  trail,  as  well  as 
proved  how  deceptive  the  surface  of  an  un- 
broken muskeg  can  be. 

"Now,  Jesse,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "you  and 
John  take  your  guns  and  go  across  on  foot 
on  one  side  of  the  trail.  It  will  probably  hold 
you  if  you  keep  moving  and  step  on  the  tufts 
and  the  bushes.  The  rest  of  us  will  have  to 
do  the  best  we  can  with  the  horses." 

"Why  can't  the  horses  go  out  there,  too?" 
demanded  Jesse.     "It  looks  all  right." 

"There  are  times,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "when 
I  wish  all  horses  had  been  bom  with  webbed 
feet.  The  hoof  of  a  horse  seems  made  pur- 
posely to  cut  through  a  muskeg,  and  the 
leg  of  a  horse  is  just  long  enough  to  tangle 
him  up  in  one.  None  the  less,  here  is  the 
muskeg,  and  here  we  are  with  our  horses, 
and  we  must  get  across.  We'll  not  go  dry 
into  camp  this  day,  nor  clean,  either." 

The  two  yoimger  boys  were  able  to  get 
across  without  any  very  serious  mishaps,  and 
presently   they   stood,   a  hundred   yards   or 

56 


HIGHER  THAN  THE   ROCKIES 

more  away,  waiting  to  see  what  was  going 
to  happen.  The  horses  all  stood  looking  at 
them  as  though  understanding  that  they 
were  on  the  farther  side  of  the  troublesome 
country. 

"Get  in,  Danny,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  and 
slapped  his  riding -pony  on  the  hip.  The 
plucky  little  horse  walked  up  to  the  edge 
of  the  soft  ground,  pawing  at  it  and  sniffing 
and  snorting  in  dislike.  Uncle  Dick  slapped 
him  on  the  hip  once  more,  and  in  Danny 
plunged,  wallowing  ahead  belly-deep  in  the 
black  slime,  slipping  and  sttimbling  over  the 
broken  bits  of  poles,  and  at  times  obliged  to 
cease,  gallant  as  were  his  struggles.  Of 
course  the  saddle  was  entirely  covered  with 
mud.  None  the  less,  in  some  way  Danny 
managed  to  get  across  and  stood  on  the  farther 
side,  a  very  much  frightened  and  disgusted 
horse. 

"She's  a  bad  one,  Moise,"  said  Uncle  Dick, 
thoughtfully.  "I  don't  know  how  they'll 
make  it  with  the  loads,  but  we've  got  to  try. 
Come  on,  Rob,  let's  drive  them  in." 

It  took  a  great  deal  of  shouting  and  whip- 
ping to  get  the  poor  brutes  to  take  to  this 
treacherous  morass,  but  one  after  the  other 

57 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

they  were  driven  in,  until  at  length  the  whole 
dozen  of  the  pack-train  were  distributed, 
half-submerged,  over  the  hundred  yards  of 
the  mucky  trail.  Uncle  Dick,  not  stopping 
to  think  of  his  clothes,  followed  Moise  in;  and 
Rob,  pluckily  as  either  of  the  others,  also 
took  to  the  mud.  Thigh-deep,  plunging 
along  as  best  they  could,  in  the  churned  up 
mass,  they  worked  along  the  animals,  ex- 
horting or  encouraging  them  the  best  they 
could.  It  was  piteously  hard  for  all  con- 
cerned, and  for  a  long  time  it  seemed  doubtful 
if  they  would  get  the  whole  train  across. 
Sometimes  a  horse,  exhausted  by  its  struggles, 
would  lie  over  on  its  side,  and  the  three  of 
them  would  have  to  tug  at  him  to  get  him 
started  again. 

The  last  horse  in  the  train  was  the  unhappy 
claybank.  Within  a  few  yards  of  the  farther 
side  this  horse  bagged  down,  helpless,  and 
fell  over  on  its  side,  its  pack  down  in  the  mud, 
and  after  plimging  viciously  for  a  time  lay 
flat,  with  its  head  out,  so  that  Rob  had  to 
cut  some  brush  to  put  under  it. 

"Broken  leg,  I'm  afraid,"  said  Uncle  Dick. 
"It's  that  rotten  corduroy  down  in  the  mud 
there.     What    shall  we   do,   Moise,   cut   off 

58 


HIGHER  THAN  THE   ROCKIES 

the   packs    and  —  but    I    hate    to    shoot    a 
horse." 

"S'pose  you'll  wait  some  minute,"  said 
Moise,  after  a  time,  coming  up  plastered  with 
mud  from  head  to  foot.  "Those  horse,  she'll 
want  for  rest  a  little  while." 

"Feel  down  along  his  hind  leg  if  you  can, 
Moise,"  said  Uncle  Dick;  "that's  the  one 
that  seems  helpless." 

Moise  obediently  kneeled  in  the  mud  and 
reached  his  arm  along  down  the  cayuse's 
legs. 

"Those  legs,  she  always  there,"  said  he, 
arising.  "Maybe  those  horse,  she'll  just  fool 
us."  Then  he  began  to  exhort  the  helpless 
animal.  ''Advance  done,  saere  cocJion  diahle 
eheval!    En  avant  la — whoop  F^ 

Moise  continued  his  shouts,  and,  to  the 
surprise  of  all,  the  disabled  horse  began  to 
flounder  once  more ;  and  as  they  all  lifted  at 
his  pack  and  pushed  him  forward  he  gave 
a  series  of  plunges  and  finally  reached  firm 
ground. 

"So,"  said  Moise,  calmly,  "thass  all  right. 
She  was  French  horse,  thass  all — you'll  been 
spoke  English  on  him,  and  he  wasn't  under- 
stood it." 

59 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

Uncle  Dick,  grimed  as  he  was  from  head 
to  foot,  could  not  help  laughing  at  Moise's 
explanation.  Then  they  all  stood  and  laughed 
at  one  another,  for  they,  as  well  as  thesaddles 
and  packs,  were  black  with  muck. 

"I  told  you,  young  men,"  said  Uncle  Dick, 
"that  we  wouldn't  make  a  clean  camp  to- 
night. You  see  now  why  we  have  covers  on 
the  packs,  don't  you,  and  why  we  roll  every- 
thing in  canvas?  Well,  anyhow,  we're  across 
that  one,  and  I  hope  there's  nothing  any 
worse  ahead,  although  you  never  can  tell." 

The  pack-horses  seemed  to  have  very  short 
memories  of  their  troubles,  for  when  the  line 
of  march  was  again  resumed  they  went  on 
peacefully  enough,  even  the  claybank  bringing 
up  the  rear  as  though  nothing  had  happened 
to  him. 

It  was  a  stiff  climb  which  confronted  them 
now,  on  the  eastern  slope  of  the  big  Athabasca 
divide;  but  as  they  rose  the  terrors  of  the 
trail  were  in  some  part  compensated  by  the 
splendid  views  of  the  country  which  now  were 
disclosed  as  they  passed  into  this  or  that 
opening  along  the  jack -pine  ridge.  A  wide 
panorama  lay  off  to  the  east,  the  country 
from  which  they  had  come;  and  at  last,  when 

60 


HIGHER  THAN  THE   ROCKIES 

finally  they  had  arrived  at  the  top  of  the 
divide,  they  could  see  the  barren  slopes  of 
the  Rockies,  now  apparently  so  close  as  to 
be  within  a  half -day's  travel.  It  was  a 
savage  and  desolate  scene  which  lay  about 
them,  the  more  gloomy  because  of  the  wide 
areas  of  dead  and  half -burned  timber  which 
stretched  for  miles  beyond,  i  Weary  and 
travel  -  stained  as  the  young  travelers  were, 
a  feeling  of  depression  came  upon  them, 
seeing  which  Uncle  Dick  did  his  best  to  cheer 
them  up. 

"Never  mind,"  said  he;  ''that  much  is 
behind  us  at  least.  We're  nearly  a  thousand 
feet  above  the  McLeod  River  here,  and  it's 
over  thirteen  hundred  feet  down  to  the  Atha- 
basca yonder.  There's  bad  going  between 
here  and  there,  although  the  valley  itself 
isn't  so  bad.  So  I  tell  you  what  I  think 
we'll  do  —  we'll  make  an  early  camp,  and 
Moise  and  I  will  go  off  to  the  south  of  the 
main  trail  and  see  if  we  can't  work  over  the 
heads  of  some  of  the  creeks.  It  may  be 
rougher  country,  but  it  ought  not  to  be  quite 
so  soft." 

They  were  glad  enough  to  follow  this 
counsel,  and  when   at   last   they  came  to  a 

6i 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

little  open  glade  with  running  water  they 
pulled  up  and  began  the  unpleasant  work  of 
removing  the  muddy  packs. 

"I've  got  mud  in  my  hair  and  my  eyes 
and  my  mouth  yet,"  said  Rob,  laughing. 

"And  my  stirrups  are  full,  and  my  rifle 
scabbard  and  everything  else,"  added  Jesse. 

"Well,  I  don't  call  this  any  fun,"  said 
John;  "I  don't  like  to  be  dirty." 

"Nonsense!"  said  Rob.  "It'll  all  wash 
off.  And  once  we  are  clean  and  have  a  cup 
of  tea,  we'll  be  just  as  good  as  new." 


VI 

THE   ATHABASCA   AT   LAST 

"A  ^  TELL,  what  luck  did  you  have,  Uncle 
V  V    Dick?  "  inquired  Jesse,  the  next  morn- 
ing, when,  a  little  later  than  usual,  they  were 
once  more  ready  to  take  the  trail. 

"Do  you  mean  what  luck  I  had  in  find- 
ing a  new  trail?  Well,  none  too  good,  but 
better,  I  think,  than  the  one  on  ahead. 
Anyway,  we'll  try  it.  If  we  can  make  the 
mouth  of  Hardisty  Creek,  we  can't  complain. 
Besides,  talking  of  adventures,  you  can't 
think  of  anything  that  has  more  chance  in 
it  than  finding  a  new  trail  down  the  Atha- 
basca side  of  this  divide  —  no  telling  how 
many  muskegs  or  hills  or  creeks  we  may  run 
into." 

Uncle  Dick,  however,  proved  to  be  a  very 
practical  wilderness  guide,  for  he  now  led 
the  party  considerably  to  the  south  of  the 
old  trail  into  country  broken  and  covered 
with  down  timber,  but  with  little  or  none  of 

63 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

bad  muskeg  in  it.  By  noon  they  were  well 
down  toward  the  water -grade  of  the  Atha- 
basca itself,  and  at  night,  after  a  long,  hard 
day's  work,  they  made  their  encampment  at 
a  point  which  to  the  eye  seemed  almost 
within  touch  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  them- 
selves. They  counted  on  much  better  going 
in  the  fiat  valley  of  the  Athabasca  than  they 
had  had  in  crossing  the  coimtry  back  of 
them,  broken  as  it  had  been  with  many 
little  waterways  and  by  the  deep,  troughlike 
valleys  of  the  bolder  streams  making  north- 
ward into  the  Athabasca. 

By  this  time  their  camp  work  seemed  less 
like  a  picnic  and  more  like  routine  work,  but 
on  the  other  hand  they  were  settling  down  to 
it  in  steady  and  businesslike  fashion,  so  that 
it  did  not  take  them  long  either  to  make  or 
to  break  camp.  Nor  did  their  weary  bodies 
leave  them  time  to  enjoy  the  splendid  moun- 
tain view  which  now  lay  about  them. 

On  the  next  day,  leaving  the  big  peak  of 
Moimt  Hardisty  behind  them,  they  made 
a  swift  climb  up  the  valley  of  a  little  creek 
called  Prairie  Creek,  the  beaten  trail  leaving 
the  main  valley  and  heading  off  parallel 
to  the  big  shallows  of  the  Athabasca,  known 

64 


THE  ATHABASCA  AT  LAST 

as  Brule  Lake.  Now  the  great  shoulders  of 
the  Rockies  seemed  to  come  close  about 
them.  They  were  following  the  general  course 
of  the  Athabasca  valley  southward  to  the 
point  where  it  breaks  out  through  its  gate 
of  the  hills.  Folding  Mountain  now  rose 
to  the  left  of  them,  and  when  finally  they 
pitched  their  camp  on  the  next  night  in  a 
little  glade  near  its  foot  they  felt  the  pleasing 
assurance  that  at  last  they  were  getting  to 
the  Rockies  themselves.  Their  leader  pointed 
out  to  them  that  they  were  now  within  the 
original  lines  of  the  great  Dominion  reserve 
known  as  Jasper  Park,  five  thousand  square 
miles  in  extent,  and  reaching  from  the  place 
where  they  were  to  the  summit  of  the  Rockies 
themselves,  and  to  the  eastern  edge  of  the 
province  of  British  Columbia. 

"From  where  we  are,"  said  Uncle  Dick, 
that  night,  "it  is  seven  or  eight  miles  to  the 
Athabasca  River  at  the  end  of  Brule  Lake. 
Once  more  we  are  at  a  place  where  we  have 
the  choice  of  two  evils." 

"I  know,"  said  Rob,  once  more  pulling  "out 
his  map;  "you  mean  we'll  have  to  go  over  the 
Roche  Miette — that  big  hill  on  ahead  there." 

"Yes,  if  we  keep  this  side  the  Athabasca 
6s 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE  ROCKIES 

we  will,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "The  Roche 
Miette  is  a  historic  landmark  on  this  trail 
of  the  fur -traders,  and  I  never  heard  that 
any  of  them  ever  loved  it,  either.  There's 
no  way  of  getting  between  it  and  the  Atha- 
basca, and  the  trail  over  it  certainly  is  bad 
enough.  There  are  places  where  a  pack-horse 
might  slip  off,  and  if  so  it  would  go  many  a 
htmdred  feet  before  it  stopped." 

"What  would  we  do  if  that  sort  of  thing 
happened?"  demanded  John. 

"Well,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "we'd  do  pre- 
cisely what  other  fellows  have  done  when 
that  happened  to  them.  But  it  hasn't  hap- 
pened yet,  and  maybe  won't  at  all." 

"It's  over  a  thousand  feet  high,"  said  Rob, 
standing  and  looking  at  the  face  of  the  big 
cliff  ahead  of  them. 

"Yes,  and  that  means  a  thousand  feet 
down  on  the  other  side,  too.  Worse  than  that, 
it  means  fording  the  Rocky  River  on  beyond, 
and  she's  a  wild  one.  Then  you've  got  to 
ford  the  Maligne,  as  well  as  a  lot  of  little 
creeks.  After  that  you've  got  to  ford  the 
Athabasca — because  we've  got  to  get  across 
the  Athabasca  in  order  to  go  up  the  Miette 
River  to  the  Yellowhead  Pass." 

66 


THE  ATHABASCA  AT  LAST 

The  boys  stood  silent,  looking  at  one  an- 
other, none  too  happy  at  these  hardships  and 
dangers  which  confronted  them. 

"Don't  look  so  glum,"  said  Uncle  Dick. 
"I've  been  over  this  trail  three  times  each 
way,  and  the  old  traders  used  to  cross  here 
dozens  of  times  each  way  and  thought 
nothing  of  it.  You  must  learn  to  be  like 
soldiers,  and  be  contented  if  you  have  a  good 
supper  and  a  good  place  to  sleep.  Besides, 
I've  got  a  plan  that  I'll  tell  you  about  in  the 
morning." 


VII 

CROSSING  THE  ATHABASCA 

THE  boys  felt  a  little  more  cheerful  the 
next  morning  after  they  had  had  their 
breakfast,  and  Rob  finally  asked  the  non- 
committal leader  of  their  party  what  he  had 
meant  the  night  before  when  he  mentioned 
his  plan  for  avoiding  the  Roche  Miette. 

"Well,  some  of  us  may  get  wet  again," 
said  Uncle  Dick;  "but  if  we  can  make  it 
through,  we  can  save  a  little  time  and  a 
little  risk,  I  think." 

"I  know,"  said  Rob;  "you  mean  to  ford 
the  Athabasca — or  swim  it." 

Uncle  Dick  nodded.  "The  horses  will  have 
to  swim,  but  I  hope  we  will  not.  For  that 
matter,  we  might  have  to  swim  the  Rocky 
River,  on  ahead.  Of  course,  the  higher  up 
the  Athabasca  we  go  the  less  water  there  is 
in  it,  but  down  in  this  country  she  spreads 
out  on  gravel -bars  and  sand-fiats.     If  we  can 

68 


CROSSING  THE  ATHABASCA 

make  it  across  here,  it  '11  be  a  good  thing,  the 
way  I  figure  it." 

"The  streams  are  not  as  high  now  as  they 
will  be  a  month  from  now,"  said  Rob.  "It's 
cold  up  in  the  hills  yet,  and  the  snow  isn't 
melting.  This  coimtry's  just  like  Alaska  in 
that  way." 

"That's  the  way  I  figure,"  said  Uncle 
Dick.  "I  know  the  regular  trail  is  on  this 
side  the  Athabasca,  but  at  the  same  time  they 
do  sometimes  ford  it  down  below  here. 
We'll  go  have  a  look,  anyhow." 

Accordingly,  they  started  out  from  their 
camp  near  Folding  Moimtain,  not  in  the  di- 
rection of  Roche  Miette,  but  departing  from 
the  trail  nearly  at  right  angles.  They  pulled 
up  at  last  on  the  shores  of  the  rushing,  muddy 
Athabasca.  Here  they  found  a  single  cabin, 
and  near  it  a  solitary  and  silent  Indian. 
What  was  better,  and  what  caused  Uncle 
Dick's  face  to  lighten  perceptibly,  was  a 
rough  home-made  bateau  of  boards  which 
lay  fastened  at  the  shore. 

"How  deep?"  asked  Uncle  Dick,  pointing 
to  the  swirling  waters,  here  several  hundred 
yards  in  width. 

The  Indian  grinned  and  made  signs,  motion- 
69  • 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

ing  with  his  hand  at  his  knees,  at  his  waist, 
and  far  above  his  head. 

"Swimming  it,  eh?"  said  Uncle  Dick. 
"Well,  that  means  swimming  the  horses 
across.  Also  it  means  freighting  the  packs. 
Off  with  the  loads,  then,  boys,  and  let's  get 
busy." 

The  Indian  and  Uncle  Dick  now  examined 
the  boat  and  found  that  it  would  ferry  some- 
thing like  five  hundred  pounds  besides  two 
men  acting  as  oarsmen.  As  they  had  some- 
thing like  three-quarters  of  a  ton  in  the  pack- 
loads,  this  meant  several  trips  in  the  boat. 

Meantime  Moise,  singing  and  laughing  as 
usual,  proceeded  to  build  a  fire  and  to  make 
a  little  midday  camp,  for  he  knew  they  would 
tarry  here  for  some  time. 

"We'll  wouldn't  took  all  the  grub  over 
right  way  first  thing,"  said  he.  "Better  eat 
plenty  first." 

"All  right,  Moise,"  said  John;  "I'm  hungry 
right  now,  and  I'll  eat  any  time  you  say. 
But  I  think  we'd  better  wait  until  we  see 
how  they  come  out  with  the  boat." 

With  the  first  load  of  supplies  in  the  skiff, 
Uncle  Dick  and  the  Indian  had  a  good  stiff 
pull  of  it,  for  the  current  of  the  Athabasca 

70 


CROSSING  THE  ATHABASCA 

here  is  at  least  six  or  eight  miles  an  hour. 
But  by  heading  up  stream  they  managed  to 
land  nearly  opposite  the  place  where  they  had 
started.  By  the  time  they  had  returned  for 
the  second  load  all  the  packs  were  off  and  the 
horses  were  ready  for  the  crossing.  Uncle 
Dick  thought  that  it  would  be  best  to  cross 
the  horses  at  once,  as  any  mountain  stream 
is  lower  in  the  early  part  of  the  day  than  it 
is  in  mid-afternoon,  when  the  daily  flood  of 
melting  snow  is  at  its  height. 

The  boys  had  often  heard  of  this  way  of 
getting  a  pack-train  across  a  river  too  deep 
to  ford,  and  now  they  were  to  see  it  in  actual 
practice.  The  Indian,  wading  out,  showed 
that  there  was  a  shallow  hard  bar  extending 
some  distance  out  and  offering  good  footing. 
He  pushed  the  boat  out  some  distance  from 
shore  and  sat  there,  holding  it  with  an  oar 
thrust  into  the  sand.  Uncle  Dick  rode  his 
saddle-pony  out  a  little  way,  and  led  the  white 
bell-mare,  old  Betsy,  along  behind  him,  pass- 
ing Betsy's  rope  to  the  Indian  as  he  sat  in 
the  boat.  Betsy,  as  may  be  supposed,  was 
a  sensible  and  courageous  horse,  well  used  to 
all  the  hardships  of  moimtain  work. 

It  is  the  way  of  all  pack-horses  to  be  given 

5  71 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

to  sudden  frights,  but,  still,  if  they  see  that 
another  horse  has  gone  ahead  they  nearly 
always  will  try  to  follow.  All  the  other 
horses  now  stood  looking  out  at  Betsy.  As 
they  did  so  the  others  of  the  party  made  a 
sort  of  rope  corral  behind  them  and  on  each 
side.  All  at  once  Moise  and  Uncle  Dick 
began  to  shout  at  the  horses  and  crowd  them 
forward  toward  the  water.  Although  they 
plunged  and  tried  to  break  away,  they  were 
afraid  of  the  rope,  and,  seeing  Betsy  standing 
there,  one  after  another  they  splashed  out 
into  the  shallow  water. 

Uncle  Dick  sprang  on  top  of  his  horse, 
Danny,  once  more,  and  headed  off  those  which 
undertook  to  come  back  to  the  bank.  Then, 
once  more  riding  out  to  the  boat,  he  sprang 
off  nearly  waist-deep  into  the  water  and 
climbed  into  the  boat,  leaving  Danny  to  take 
his  chances  with  the  others.  Both  men  now 
bent  to  the  oars.  Old  Betsy,  seeing  her  rope 
fast  to  the  boat  for  the  time,  swam  toward 
it  so  strongly  that  they  were  almost  afraid 
she  would  try  to  get  into  it,  so  at  length 
Uncle  Dick  cut  off  the  rope  as  short  as  he 
could  and  cast  everything  loose.  By  that 
time,  as  good-fortune  would  have  it,  all  the 

72 


CROSSING  THE  ATHABASCA 

horses  were  swimming,  following  the  white 
lead-mare,  which,  seeing  the  shore  on  ahead, 
and  not  seeing  the  shore  behind,  and,  more- 
over, seeing  human  beings  in  the  boat  just 
ahead,  struck  out  sturdily  for  the  other  side. 
The  swift  icy  current  of  the  Athabasca 
carried  the  animals  far  down-stream,  and  this 
time  Uncle  Dick  did  not  try  to  keep  the  boat 
up-stream,  but  allowed  it  to  drift  with  the 
horses,  angling  down.  It  seemed  to  those 
left  on  the  hither  shore  at  least  half  an  hour 
before  a  call  from  the  other  side  announced 
that  the  boatmen  had  reached  shallow  water. 
Of  course  it  was  not  so  long;  but,  whether 
long  or  short,  it  certainly  was  fortunate  that 
the  journey  had  been  made  so  quickly  and  so 
safely.  For  now,  one  after  another,  they 
could  see  the  horses  splashing  and  struggling 
as  they  found  solid  footing  under  them,  so 
what  had  lately  been  a  procession  of  heads 
and  ears  became  a  line  of  pack-horses  strag- 
gling up  the  bank;  and  a  very  cold  and 
much-frightened  train  of  pack-horses  they 
were,  too,  as  Uncle  Dick  could  have  told  his 
young  companions.  But  what  he  did  was  to 
give  a  great  shout  which  announced  to  them 
that  all  was  safe. 

73 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

After  that,  of  course,  it  was  simply  a 
question  of  freighting  over  the  remainder  of 
the  supplies  and  the  others  of  the  party,  and 
of  rounding  up  the  scattered  horses  from  the 
grazing-places  in  the  woods.  Moise  insisted 
on  having  tea  before  the  last  trip  was  made; 
and  by  this  time  the  boys  realized  that  at 
no  time  in  these  operations  had  they  been 
left  alone  with  no  one  older  than  themselves 
to  care  for  them  in  case  of  accidents,  nor  had 
they  been  left  without  supplies  close  at  hand. 

"You're  a  pretty  good  manager.  Uncle 
Dick,"  said  John,  while  they  sat  on  a  long 
log  by  the  fireside  before  the  last  trip  across 
the  river.  "I'm  willing  to  say  that  you're 
a  pretty  good  engineer  as  well  as  a  pretty 
good  contractor." 

"Nothing  venture,  nothing  have,"  said 
Uncle  Dick.  "You  have  to  use  your  head 
on  the  trail  a  little  bit,  as  well  as  your  nerve, 
however.  We'd  have  had  to  swim  the  Atha- 
basca anyhow,  and  I'd  about  as  soon  swim 
a  train  over  a  broad,  steady  river  as  to  try  to 
cross  a  rough  moimtain  river  with  a  loaded 
train,  and  maybe  get  a  horse  swept  under  a 
log-jam.  Anyway,  we  can  call  the  river 
crossed,  and  jolly  glad  I  am  of  it,  too." 

74 


CROSSING  THE  ATHABASCA 

"When  do  we  get  any  fishing? "  asked  Jesse. 
"That  water  looks  too  muddy  for  trout." 

"We  won't  get  any  fishing  for  a  couple  of 
days  yet,  probably,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "And 
as  to  shooting,  you  must  remember  that  we 
are  now  in  Jasper  Park,  and  if  we  struck  a 
game  warden  he  would  seal  all  our  guns  for 
us." 

"Well,"  said  Rob,  "I  see  there's  a  lake 
over  here  called  Fish  Lake." 

"Yes.  The  old  traders'  trail  runs  between 
Fish  Lake  and  Brule  Lake,  and  a  great  piece 
of  sand  it  is  in  there,  too — we  engineers  will 
have  to  put  blankets  on  that  country  to  keep 
it  from  blowing  away  when  we  build  the  rail- 
road through.  But  we'll  miss  all  that,  and 
to-morrow  we'll  stop  at  Swift's  place,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river." 

"Whose  place?"  asked  John.  "I  didn't 
know  anybody  lived  in  here." 

"It's  an  odd  thing  about  this  country," 
said  Uncle  Dick,  "but  people  do  live  all  over 
it,  and  have  done  so  for  a  himdred  years  or 
two,  although  it,  none  the  less,  is  the  wilder- 
ness. Sometimes  you  will  find  a  settler  in 
the  wildest  part  of  the  mountains.  Now, 
Swift  is  an  old  Yankee  that  came  up  here  from 

75 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

the  States  about  thirty  years  ago.  He  used 
to  trade  and  trap,  perhaps,  and  of  late  years 
he  has  made  him  quite  a  farm.  Besides  that, 
he  has  built  himself  a  mill  and  makes  his 
own  flour.  He's  quite  an  ingenious  old  chap, 
and  one  of  the  features  of  the  coimtry.  We 
engineers  found  his  fresh  vegetables  pretty 
good  last  season.  For  my  part,  I  hope  he 
makes  a  fortune  out  of  his  land  if  we  locate 
a  town  near  him.  His  place  isn't  so  very  far 
from  Jasper  House.  That  was  the  first  set- 
tlement in  this  coimtry — the  Hudson's  Bay's 
post,  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago." 

"Is  it  still  standing?"  asked  Rob. 

"Oh  no,  and  hasn't  been  for  years.  We 
can  still  see  a  few  logs  there,  and  nothing 
more.  It  fell  into  disuse  maybe  fifty  years 
ago,  and  was  abandoned  altogether  twenty- 
five  years  back,  and  since  then  burned  down. 
It's  the  only  post,  so  far  as  I  know,  called 
after  a  man's  Christian  name.  The  old  posts 
were  called  'houses,'  but  this  one  was  built 
by  Jasper  Hawse.  Hardy  old  chap,  old  Jas- 
per, I  presume;  because,  he  made  such  good 
fur  returns  that  the  rival  company,  the  old 
Nor'westers,  came  in  here  and  built  a  post, 
which  they  called  Henry  House,  on  up  the 

76 


CROSSING  THE  ATHABASCA 

river  some  miles  from  Jasper  House.  But 
the  Nor 'westers  couldn't  stand  the  competi- 
tion, and  before  long  they  abandoned  their 
post,  and  it  has  been  left  so  ever  since. 
Lastly  came  the  engineers,  following  the 
traders,  who  followed  the  Indians,  who  fol- 
lowed the  wild -game  trails;  and  behind  us 
will  come  the  railroads.  In  two  or  three 
years,  if  you  like,  you  yoimgsters  can  come 
through  here  on  the  train  a  great  deal  more 
easily  than  you  are  doing  it  now. 

"But  now,"  concluded  Uncle  Dick,  "we 
must  go  across  the  river  and  see  how  old 
Betsy  is  getting  along  with  her  family." 

They  made  this  final  trip  with  the  boat 
without  incident,  and  Uncle  Dick  gave  the 
Indian  ten  dollars  for  his  help,  which  seemed 
to  please  that  taciturn  person  very  much. 


VIII 

IN    HIGH   ALTITUDES 

WELL,  I  want  to  shoot  something,"  said 
John,  as  they  stood  in  their  camp  the 
following  morning.  "I  don't  like  this  park 
business." 

"Nonsense,  John,"  said  Rob.  "A  park  is 
just  a  place  where  you  raise  wild  animals; 
and  if  there  were  no  parks,  pretty  soon  there 
wouldn't  be  any  wild  animals.  Besides,  it's 
such  a  glorious  morning,  and  this  coimtry  is 
so  beautiful,  that  for  one  I  don't  much  care 
whether  or  not  we  shoot  anything  for  a  day 
or  two." 

"Well,  I  like  a  free  country,"  said  John, 
loudly. 

"So  do  I,  but  you  can  say  one  thing;  when 
a  railroad  comes  into  a  country  and  it  begins 
to  settle  up,  you  can't  have  free  hunting 
forever." 

"We  can  have  good  fishing  before  long, 
78 


IN    HIGH   ALTITUDES 

yoimg  gentlemen,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "In 
fact,  rU  show  you  a  lake  or  two  up  above 
here  where  you  shall  have  all  the  fun  you 
want.  This  used  to  be  a  great  fur  coimtry. 
I  fancy  the  Stony  Indians  killed  off  a  good 
many  of  the  sheep  and  bears  on  the  east  side 
of  the  Rockies  below  here,  and  of  course  along 
the  regular  trails  all  game  gets  to  be  scarce, 
but  I  will  show  you  goat  trails  up  in  these 
hills  which  look  as  though  they  had  been 
made  by  a  pack-train.  I  don't  doubt,  if  one 
would  go  thirty  or  forty  miles  from  here,  he 
could  get  into  good  grizzly  country,  but  you 
know  we  put  our  grizzly  shoots  off  for  the 
other  side  of  the  Rockies,  and  we  all  agreed 
just  to  plug  on  through  until  we  got  to  the 
summit." 

"How's  the  country  on  ahead?"  asked 
John,  dubiously. 

"Bad  enough,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "but  it 
might  be  worse.  At  least,  there  is  a  lot  of 
ground  on  this  side  the  river  which  is  solid, 
and  in  fact  I  wouldn't  say  there  is  anything 
very  bad  until  we  get  pretty  well  up  the 
Miette  River  where  the  cross  -  creeks  come 
down.  We  may  find  some  soft  going  up 
there,  with  the  snow  just  beginning  to  melt, 

79 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

as  it  is.  But  now  let's  get  into  saddle  and 
push  on." 

They  soon  were  under  way  once  more,  pass- 
ing up  the  wide  valley  and  now  entering 
deeper  and  deeper  into  the  arms  of  the  great 
Rockies  themselves.  Not  far  from  their  camp 
they  paused  for  a  moment  at  the  ruins  of 
old  Jasper  House.  It  was  as  Uncle  Dick  had 
said.  Nothing  remained  excepting  one  cabin, 
which  showed  evident  marks  of  being  modem. 

"It's  too  bad,"  said  Rob,  "that  these  old 
historic  houses  ever  were  allowed  to  pass 
away.  How  nice  it  would  be  if  we  could  see 
them  now,  just  the  way  old  Jasper  Hawse 
built  them.  But  log  cabins  don't  stand  as 
well  as  stone  houses,  I've  noticed." 

"I  wonder  if  Mr.  Swift  is  going  to  build 
him  a  stone  house  when  the  town  comes," 
said  Jesse.  "I  suppose  it's  only  a  log  house 
he's  got  now." 

"Quite  right,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "and  it's 
only  a  little  way  until  we  reach  it  to-day. 
We'll  celebrate  our  crossing  the  Athabasca 
by  making  a  short  journey  to-day." 

So  presently  they  did  pull  up  at  the 
quaint  frontier  home  known  all  along  the  trail 
as   "Swift's."     They  were  met  by  the  old 

80 


IN    HIGH    ALTITUDES 

man  himself,  who  seemed  to  be  alone — a 
gaimt  and  grizzled  figure  of  the  old  frontier 
breed.  He  came  out  and  shook  hands  with 
each  in  turn  and  helped  all  to  get  off  their 
saddles  and  packs,  evidently  glad  to  see 
them,  and  still  more  pleased  when  Uncle  Dick 
told  him  that  these  boys  had  come  all  the  way 
from  Alaska. 

"Alasky?"  said  he.  ''You  don't  tell  me! 
Now  here  I  be,  and  I  thought  I'd  come  a 
long  way  when  I  come  from  the  States  thirty 
year  ago.  Alasky,  eh?  I've  heard  there's 
gold  up  there.  Maybe  I'll  stroll  over  there 
some  day." 

"It's  a  good  long  v/ay,  Mr.  Swift,"  said 
Rob,  smiling. 

"Well,  maybe  'tis,  maybe  'tis,"  said  the 
old  man,  "but  I  betche  when  they  get  the 
railroad  across  it  wouldn't  be  any  farther  than 
it  was  when  I  punched  a  pack-horse  up  from 
the  state  of  Washington.  Which  way  you 
headed?" 

"Clear  across  to  the  Pacific,"  said  Rob, 
nonchalantly.  "We  live  at  Valdez,  in  Alaska, 
and  that's  a  week's  sail  from  Seattle.  We 
crossed  the  Peace  River  summit  last  year — ' ' 

"You  did?     Now  vou  don't  tell  me  that!" 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

"Yes,  sir,  and  Moise  here  was  with  us. 
And  this  year  we're  going  across  the  Yellow- 
head  and  down  the  Fraser  to  the  Tete  Jaune 
Cache,  and  from  there  we  are  going  down 
the  Canoe  River  to  the  Columbia,  and  down 
the  Columbia  River  to  the  railroad,  and  then 
west  to  the  coast.  It's  easy  enough."  And 
Rob  spoke  rather  proudly,  perhaps  just  a 
little  boastfully. 

The  old  man  shook  his  head  from  side  to 
side.  "Well,  I  want  to  know!"  said  he.  "If 
I  didn't  know  this  gentleman  of  the  engineers 
I'd  say  you  boys  was  either  crazy  or  lying 
to  me.  But  he's  a  good  man,  all  right,  and 
I  reckon  he'll  get  you  through.  So  you're 
going  over  to  the  old  Tee- John,  are  you? 
I  know  it  well." 

"And  we  hope  to  see  the  old  Boat  En- 
campment on  the  Columbia  where  the  Sas- 
katchewan trail  came  in,"  added  Rob,  reach- 
ing for  his  map. 

"I  know  it  well,"  said  the  old  man — "know 
it  like  a  book,  the  whole  country.  Well, 
good  luck  to  you,  and  I  wish  I  was  going 
through;  but  I'll  see  ye  up  in  Alasky  in  a 
couple  of  years,  when  this  here  railroad  gets 
through.     I  got  to  stay  here  and  tend  to  my 

82 


IN   HIGH    ALTITUDES 

garden  and  farm  and  my  town  lots  for  a 
while  yit." 

The  old  man  now  showed  them  with  a  great 
deal  of  pride  his  little  fields  and  his  system 
of  irrigation,  and  the  rough  mill  which  he 
had  made  with  no  tools  but  a  saw  and  an 
ax.  "I  used  to  pack  in  flour  from  Edmonton, 
three  hundred  and  fifty  miles,"  said  he,  "and 
it  wasn't  any  hm,  I  can  tell  you.  So  I  said, 
what's  the  use — why  not  make  a  mill  for 
myself  and  grind  my  ow^n  flour?" 

"And  good  flour  it  is,  too,  boys,"  said 
Uncle  Dick,  "for  I've  tasted  it  often  and 
know." 

"I  s'pose  we  ought  to  get  on  a  little  bit 
farther  this  evening,"  said  John  to  the  leader 
of  the  party,  after  a  while. 

"No,  you  don't,"  said  the  old  man;  "you'll 
stay  right  here  to-night,  I  tell  you.  Plenty 
of  trouble  on  ahead  without  being  in  a  hurry 
to  get  into  it,  and  here  you  can  sleep  dry 
and  have  plenty  to  eat.  I  haven't  got  any 
trout  in  the  house  to-day,  but  there's  a  little 
lake  up  by  Pyramid  Mountain  where  you 
can  ketch  plenty,  and  there's  another  one  a 
few  miles  around  the  comer  of  the  Miette 
valley  where  you   can  get  'em  even  better. 

83 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

Oh  yes,  from  now  on  you'll  have  all  the  fish 
you  want  to  eat,  and  all  the  fun,  too,  I  reckon, 
that  you  come  for.  So  you're  all  the  way 
from  Alasky,  eh?  Well,  I  swan!  I've  seen 
folks  here  from  England  and  New  York  and 
Oregon,  but  I  never  did  see  no  one  from  Alasky 
before.  And  you're  just  boys!  Come  in  and 
unroll  your  blankets." 


IX 

THE    HEART    OF    THE    MOUNTAINS 

WELL,  boys,"  said  Swift,  the  next  day 
after  breakfast, ''  I  wisht  ye  could  stay 
longer  with  me,  but  I  reckon  ye  got  to  be  on 
your  way,  so  I'll  just  wish  ye  well  and  go 
about  my  planting.'' 

"So  long,  friend,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  as  they 
parted.  "We'll  see  you  from  time  to  time. 
When  the  railroad  gets  through  we'll  all  be 
neighbors  in  here." 

"Sure,"  said  the  old  man,  none  too  happily. 
"It's  a  fright  how  close  things  has  got  to- 
gether sence  I  packed  north  from  the  Colimiby 
thirty  year  ago.  Well,  I  hope  you'll  get 
some  trout  where  you  camp  to-night.  You'd 
ought  to  go  up  on  my  mountain  and  ketch 
some  of  them  lake-trout.  I  dun'no'  where 
they  come  from,  for  there  ain't  nothing  like 
'em  in  no  other  lake  in  these  mountains.  But  I 
reckon  they  was  always  in  there,  wasn't  they?  '* 

8s 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

"Certainly  they  were,"  answered  Uncle 
Dick.  "I  know  about  those  trout.  They  tell 
me  they  are  just  like  the  lake- trout  of  the 
Great  Lakes.  But  we  can't  stop  for  them 
to-day.  I'll  promise  the  camp  some  rainbow- 
trout  for  supper,  though — at  least  for  to- 
morrow night." 

"I  know  where  ye  mean,"  said  the  old 
man,  smiling;  "it's  that  little  lake  off  the 
Miette  trail.     Plenty  o'  rainbows  in  there." 

"We'll  camp  opposite  that  lake  to-night." 

"And  pass  my  town  site  this  morning,  eh? 
Wish  it  well  for  me.  If  I've  got  to  be  civilized 
I 'm  going  to  be  plumb  civilized.  Well,  so  long. '  * 

They  all  shook  hands,  and  the  little  pack- 
train  turned  off  up  the  north-boimd  trail. 

They  were  now  following  along  a  rude  trail 
blazed  here  and  there  by  exploring  parties  of 
engineers.  Presently  Uncle  Dick  pointed  them 
out  the  place  where  the  new  town  was  to  be 
built. 

"Here,"  said  he,  pulling  up,  "is  where  we 
will  have  a  division  point,  with  railway 
shops,  roundhouses,  and  all  that.  Its  name 
will  be  Fitzhugh." 

"Huh!"  said  John,  "it  doesn't  look  much 
like  a  town  yet.     It's  all  rocks  and  trees." 

86 


THE   HEART   OF   THE    MOUNTAINS 

"But  there's  a  fine  view,"  said  Rob,  looking 
out  over  the  landscape  with  critical  eye.  "I 
presume  that's  the  valley  of  the  Maligne 
River  coming  in  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Athabasca,  isn't  it,  Uncle  Dick?" 

"Yes,  and  I  am  glad  we  don't  have  to  ford 
it,  but  are  on  this  side  of  the  big  river." 

"It  looks  like  another  valley  coming  down 
from  the  right,  on  ahead,"  said  Rob. 

"That's  the  Miette  valley,  and  we  turn 
up  that  as  though  we  were  going  arotind  a 
comer.  Just  ahead  is  where  we  leave  the 
Athabasca  valley.  That  river  runs  off  to  the 
left.  The  big  white  mountain  you  see  square 
ahead  is  Mount  Geikie.  The  Athabasca  nms 
south  of  that,  and  the  Miette  this  side.  In 
short,  this  is  the  place  where  the  old  trails 
fork.  Yonder  goes  the  trail  to  the  Athabasca 
Pass,  and  here  to  the  right  is  ours  to  the 
Yellowhead." 

"Which  did  they  find  first,  Uncle  Dick?" 
inquired  John. 

"As  I  was  telling  you,  the  Athabasca 
Pass  was  the  first  discovered.  That  is,  it 
was  found  before  the  Yellowhead.  Far  south, 
at  the  head  of  the  Saskatchewan,  Duncan 
McGillivray  discovered  what  is  called  the 
6  87 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

Howse  Pass.  That  was  in  1800.  Some  sup- 
pose that  pass  was  named  after  old  Jasper 
Hawse,  or  Howse,  who  founded  Jasper  House 
just  below  us  on  the  river  here. 

"The  traders  used  the  Howse  Pass  quite  a 
while,  until,  as  I  told  you,  the  Flathead  In- 
dians and  Kootenais  got  guns  from  the  west 
and  whipped  the  Piegans,  down  below  here. 
That  started  old  David  Thompson  out  hunt- 
ing for  another  pass  further  north.  It  is 
thought  that  the  Athabasca  Pass  was  dis- 
covered by  J.  Henry,  a  free  trapper,  about 
1 8 10.  The  Yellowhead  Pass,  which  we  are 
going  to  cross  in  due  time,  was  not  really 
discovered  or  used  by  the  traders  until  about 
1825  or  1826.  But  our  friend  Jasper  Hawse 
seems  to  have  used  it  before  that  time." 

"And  he  went  right  up  this  way  where  we 
are  going  now,"  said  Rob,  musingly. 

' '  He  certainly  did, "  said  Uncle  Dick.  ' '  There 
wasn't  any  other  place  for  him  to  go  if  he 
started  up  the  Miette." 

"It  seems  to  me  as  though  the  engineers 
were  always  following  rivers,"  said  Jesse. 

"Precisely.  When  you  have  learned  the 
rivers  of  a  country  you  know  its  geography, 
and  a  good  part  of  its  history,  too.     You'll 

88 


THE    HEART  OF   THE    MOUNTAINS 

realize  more  and  more  that  white  explorers 
did  very  little  discovering.  They  climg  to 
the  rivers,  which  already  had  paths  along 
them — paths  made  by  the  native  tribes.  En- 
gineers like  to  stick  to  stream  valleys  because 
the  grades  are  light.  All  the  great  passes  of 
the  Rockies  were  found  by  following  rivers 
back  into  the  hills,  just  as  we  are  doing 
now." 

"It's  fine,"  said  John,  "to  feel  that  we  are 
right  here  where  the  old  men  used  to  travel, 
and  that  we've  got  to  travel  the  way  they  did. 
I'm  glad  I  came." 

"I'm  glad,  too,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "It  has 
been  rather  hard  work,  and  now  I  propose  to 
give  you  a  little  rest,  so  the  horses  can  pick 
up  as  well  as  ourselves.  There's  good  grass 
in  the  valley  on  ahead,  and  we'll  go  into  camp 
rather  early." 

They  pushed  on  now,  swinging  away  pres- 
ently from  the  great  valley  of  the  Athabasca, 
hemmed  in  by  its  mountains,  and  beginning 
to  climb  the  steeper  ascent  of  the  Miette. 
At  the  foot  of  the  narrow  valley  they  could 
see  the  racing  green  flood  of  the  river,  broken 
here  and  there  by  white  rapids,  on  its  way  to 
the  valley  of  the  Athabasca,  whose  rift  in 

89 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

the  hills  they  now  lost  as  they  continued 
their  ascent. 

Late  in  that  afternoon  they  found  good 
camping-ground  by  the  side  of  a  brawling 
little  mountain  stream.  The  boys  were  happy 
and  light-hearted  as  they  went  about  pitching 
their  camp,  for  the  spot  was  very  lovely,  the 
weather  fine,  and  the  going  had  not  been  so 
difficult  as  to  tire  them  out.  They  plunged 
into  the  camp  duties  with  such  enthusiasm 
as  to  please  Moise  very  much. 

"Those  boy,  she'll  been  all  right.  Monsieur," 
said  that  worthy  to  Uncle  Dick.  "  She'll  come 
through  all  right,  all  same  trapper  man." 

''Certainly,"  said  Uncle  Dick;  "imless  we 
have  some  bad  accident  we'll  have  a  very 
fine  journey  all  the  way  across." 

"And  to-morrow  she'll  caught  some  feesh?" 
inquired  Moise.  "Why  not  get  some  sheeps, 
too?  Me,  I  am  tired  of  those  bacon  all  the 
time." 

"We're  still  inside  the  Jasper  Park  Reser- 
vation," replied  Uncle  Dick,  "so  we  can't 
shoot  game,  but  to-morrow  I'll  promise  you 
some  fish  in  camp.  We're  now  getting  into 
the  Rockies,  and  we'll  have  fish  every  day 
now,  if  you  like." 


X 

RAINBOW  LAKE 

THE  boys  were  up  early,  excited  by  the 
prospect  of  a  day's  sport,  and  before 
the  sun  had  more  than  shown  above  the 
hills  they  were  out  in  the  dewy  grass  and 
ready  for  breakfast.  From  their  camp  they 
could  hear  the  rushing  of  the  swift  Miette 
below  them.  All  around  them  lay  a  won- 
derful mountain  view — Mount  Geikie  on  one 
side,  and  off  ahead,  apparently  closing  the 
valley  itself,  three  tall  white  peaks  which 
were  to  rise  before  them  for  some  time  yet. 
The  high,  dry  air  of  the  moimtains  was  most 
refreshing,  and  all  were  full  of  life  and  joy 
when  their  leader  at  length  told  them  that 
they  might  start  for  the  hidden  lake  back 
in  the  hills. 

"How'd  you  happen  to  find  that  lake?" 
asked  John.  "It  doesn't  seem  to  show  any- 
where in  this  valley." 

91 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE  ROCKIES 

"We  found  it  on  the  same  principle  as  they 
found  the  Yellowhead  Pass,"  said  Uncle  Dick. 
"When  we  struck  this  little  creek  we  knew 
it  must  come  from  somewhere,  and  as  a 
matter  of  fact  we  were  hungry  for  trout. 
So  we  followed  the  creek  until  we  discovered 
the  lake  that  we  call  Rainbow  Lake,  where 
we  are  going  to-day.  It's  bad  walking  along 
the  creek,  however,  and  we'll  find  it  much 
easier  to  go  on  up  the  valley  a  little  way,  and 
then  cross  over  the  high  ridge  to  the  right. 
It's  a  climb  of  about  a  thousand  feet,  but  the 
going  is  good,  and  it's  only  a  mile  or  so  over 
to  the  lake  in  that  way." 

Following  their  leader,  they  all  started  up 
the  valley,  each  with  his  fishing-rod  in  hand. 
Soon  they  were  making  their  way  up  the  steep 
slope  of  the  lofty  ridge  which  lay  between 
the  valley  and  the  hidden  lake.  From  time 
to  time  they  stopped  to  catch  their  breath, 
and  at  such  times  sat  looking  with  wonder 
at  the  great  mountain  prospect  which  rose 
before  them  as  they  climbed. 

"It  certainly  seems  as  though  we  were  the 
first  to  be  here,"  said  Jesse.  "You  can't  see 
the  track  of  anybody  in  here." 

"No,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "no  tin  cans  just 
92 


RAINBOW  LAKE 

yet,  and  we  might  as  well  call  ourselves  the 
first,  because  we're  traveling  precisely  as  the 
first  men  did  who  came  through  here.  But 
I  would  like  to  ask  you  whether  you  dis- 
covered anything  this  morning  out  of  the 
way." 

John  and  Jesse  could  not  think  of  anything, 
but  Rob  hesitated.  "I'll  tell  you  what," 
said  he,  "it  seems  to  me  there  must  have  been 
more  than  one  trail  up  this  valley.  At  least, 
I've  seen  two  this  morning." 

' '  Precisely.  The  main  trail  ran  lower  down, 
below  our  camp.  The  other  trail  which  you 
noticed  cut  across  a  low  place  in  this  ridge 
back  of  us.  Now  that  trail  nms  right  along 
the  side  of  our  little  lake  over  yonder.  It 
passes  back  above  that  lake  and  heads  off 
into  the  motmtains.  It's  as  deep  and  broad 
as  the  other  trail,  but  nobody  seems  to  know 
anything  about  it.  It  seems  to  strike  in  for 
the  moimtains  somewhere  north  of  Yellow- 
head  Pass.  But  where  does  it  go?  No  one 
can  tell  you.  Is  there  another  pass  in  there, 
north  of  Yellowhead?  No  one  can  answer 
that.  Perhaps  the  two  trails  meet  somewhere 
between  here  and  the  Yellowhead;  but  if  so, 
no  one  has  found  where.     That's  a  mystery, 

93 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

isn't  it?  Some  day,  if  I  ever  have  time,  I'm 
going  to  follow  out  that  trail  and  see  where 
it  goes. 

"But  come  on,"  he  concluded;  "we'll  go 
on  over  the  ridge  and  see  the  trail  itself  by 
the  side  of  the  lake." 

They  rose  now  and  pushed  on  up  to  the 
top  of  their  steep  climb,  and  soon  passed 
into  the  dense  growth  of  small  pines  which 
covered  it.  Their  leader  pushed  on  ahead, 
calling  to  them  to  follow;  and,  although  the 
going  was  very  difficult  on  account  of  burned 
timber  and  tangled  tmdergrowth,  they  passed 
on  rapidly  down  the  farther  slope,  until  pres- 
ently they  broke  from  the  cover  and  stood 
at  the  edge  of  the  beautiful  little  mountain 
lake  which  lay  green  and  mirrorlike,  a  mile 
or  so  in  extent,  surrounded  closely  on  all 
sides  by  the  great  moimtain  walls. 

"Well,"  said  John,  "it's  a  beauty,  sure 
enough." 

"It  certainly  is,"  said  Jesse,  "and  no  tin 
cans  of  worm  fishermen  anywhere  along  here, 
either.     It  looks  fishy,  too." 

"It  certainly  is  fishy,"  smiled  Uncle  Dick; 
"or  it  was  last  year,  when  I  was  in  here. 
The  trout  don't  nm  so  very  large,  but  they 

94 


RAINBOW  LAKE 

strike  well  and  they  are  mighty  good  to 
eat." 

"What's  this  old  hump  we're  on?"  inquired 
Jesse,  looking  down  curiously  at  his  feet. 
They  were  standing  on  a  rude  pile  of  poles 
and  sticks  which  extended  well  out  into  the 
lake. 

"Guess,"  said  Uncle  Dick. 

"I  know,"  said  Rob  at  once — "beaver!" 

"Right.  It's  one  of  the  biggest  beaver- 
houses  I  ever  saw  in  my  life.  You'll  find 
beaver  sign  all  arotmd  this  lake,  but  I  suppose 
they  caught  the  last  one — maybe  old  Swift 
could  tell  who  got  him,  or  some  of  his  Indian 
friends.  So  all  we'll  use  the  old  beaver-house 
for  is  as  a  kind  of  pier  to  stand  on  while  we 
fish — the  trees  come  so  close  to  the  lake  that 
it  is  hard  to  get  a  back-cast  here." 

"Well,"  said  Jesse,  "over  there  to  the  end 
of^the  lake  is  a  sort  of  point  that  nms  out  in — 
where  it  is  rocky,  with  little  trees  and  grass." 

"A  splendid  place  to  fish,  too,"  said  his 
imcle.  "Now  if  you  and  John  want  to  go 
aroimd  there,  Rob  and  I  will  stay  here  and 
try  it.  But  you'll  have  to  be  careful  in 
crossing  that  marsh  at  the  head  of  the  lake. 
That's  a  beaver  marsh — and  just  to  show 

95 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

you  how  old  our  trail  is  that  I  was  mentioning, 
you  will  probably  find  the  marsh  was  made 
later  than  the  trail  was.  But  you  can  follow 
it  along  the  edge  of  the  lake  for  quite  a  ways. 
It's  all  full  of  bogs  and  beaver-dams  farther 
up  the  valley,  beyond  the  lake." 

"Come  on,  Jess,"  said  John,  "and  we'll 
go  over  there  where  we  can  get  out  a  good 
long  line." 

These  boys  were  all  of  them  fearless,  from 
their  outdoor  training  in  their  Alaskan  home, 
so  without  hesitation  the  two  younger  mem- 
bers of  the  party  started  out  alone  and  pres- 
ently, after  some  running  and  splashing  across 
the  wet  marsh,  they  reached  the  rocky  point 
which  they  had  mentioned. 

"My,  but  this  is  a  pretty  lake!"  said  Jesse, 
standing  for  a  time  admiring  the  beautiful 
sheet  of  water  that  lay  before  them. 

"It  certainly  is  all  alone,"  said  John.  "I 
saw  a  trail  back  in  there  which  I'll  bet  was 
made  by  caribou.  And  there's  beaver  in 
here  yet,  I'm  sure." 

' '  Yes ,  and  trout , ' '  exclaimed  Jesse.  * '  Look 
at  that  fellow  rise!  We'll  get  some  sure. 
What  fly  are  you  going  to  use,  John?" 

"Let's  try  the  Coachman — I've  noticed  that 
96 


RAINBOW  LAKE 

in  the  mountains  trout  nearly  always  run  at 
something  white,  and  the  white  wings  look  as 
good  as  anything  to  me." 

"All  right,"  said  Jesse,  and  soon  they  were 
both  casting  as  far  as  they  could  from  the 
shore. 

"Out  there  is  a  sort  of  reef  or  rocks,"  said 
John;  "I'll  bet  there's  fish  there.  Now  if  I 
could—  Aha!"  he  cried.  "Got  him!  No!" 
he  exclaimed,  a  minute  later.    "There's  two! " 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  John  was  a  good  caster 
for  one  of  his  age,  and  he  had  laid  out  thirty 
or  forty  feet  of  line  when  there  came  a  silvery 
flash  from  below,  followed  by  a  second  one, 
as  two  fine  trout  fastened  at  his  two  flies. 

"I  can  hardly  hold  them,  Jess,"  said  he, 
"but  my!  don't  they  look  fine  down  in  that 
clear  water?  Rainbows,  both  of  them,  and 
about  a  pound  each,  I  think." 

It  was  some  time  before  John  could  control 
his  two  hard-fighting  fish;  but  after  a  time, 
with  Jesse  assisting,  he  got  them  out  on  the 
hard  gravel  beach. 

"Now  you  try  out  there,  Jess,"  said  he. 
"Cast  out  there  where  the  bottom  looks  black 
— that's  where  they  lie." 

"All  right,"  said  Jesse;  and,  to  be  sure,  he 
97 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

had  fished  but  a  few  moments  before  a  splash 
and  a  tug  told  him  that  he  too  had  hooked 
a  fine  trout. 

"This  is  great,  John,  isn't  it?"  exclaimed 
he.  "And  how  they  do  fight!  We  never  had 
any  trout  up  in  Alaska  that  fought  this  hard. 
Even  the  salmon  we  caught  on  Kadiak  Island 
didn't  pull  much  harder." 

When  finally  they  had  landed  Jesse's  trout 
they  stood  at  the  beach  and,  holding  up  their 
prizes,  gave  a  shout,  which  was  answered  by 
Rob  from  the  other  side  of  the  lake.  He  also 
held  up  something  in  his  hand  which  was 
white  and  glistening. 

"They're  having  good  luck,  too,"  said  he. 
"Well,  now  let's  settle  down  and  get  a  mess 
of  trout,  for  I  am  like  Moise,  tired  of  eating 
bacon  all  the  time." 

They  did  settle  down,  and,  each  finding  a 
good  casting-place  on  the  rocky  point,  they 
so  skilfully  plied  their  rods  that  in  a  short 
time  they  had  a  dozen  fine  trout  between 
them.  As  their  companions  seemed  to  have 
stopped  fishing  by  this  time,  they  also  reeled 
up  their  lines  and  started  back  across  the 
marsh. 

"Pretty  good  luck,  eh?"  said  Uncle  Dick, 
98 


RAINBOW  LAKE 

as  they  admiringly  held  up  their  string  of 

fish.     ''Well,  Rob  and  I  have  got  about  as 

many  here." 

"Didn't  they  fight  hard,  though?"  asked 

Rob.     "I  never  saw  fish  of  their  size  make 

such  trouble." 

"The  water  is  very  cold,"  said  Uncle  Dick, 

"and  that  makes  the  fish  very  firm  and  active. 

I  don't  know  just  what  they  eat,  but  I  sup- 
pose there  must  be  some  little  minnows  in 

the  lake.  Then  there  are  some  insects  on 
warm  days;  and  perhaps  they  get  some  kind 
of  ground  feed  once  in  a  while." 

"They're  all  rainbows,  aren't  they?"  said 
Rob.  "As  near  as  I  can  tell,  they  look  like 
the  rainbows  on  the  Pacific  slope.  How  did 
they  get  over  here?" 

"How  did  they  get  into  any  of  the  streams 
in  the  United  States  east  of  the  Rocky 
summit?"  asked  Uncle  Dick.  "Nobody  can 
answer  that.  Of  course,  all  the  rainbows  in 
the  Eastern  states  are  planted  there.  But 
when  you  get  up  on  the  marsh  of  the  Yellow- 
head  Pass,  where  the  water  doesn't  know 
which  way  to  run,  you  will  wonder  if  sometime 
in  the  past  the  Pacific  trout  didn't  swim  into 
Atlantic  waters — ^just  as  they  are  said  to  have 

99 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

done  at  the  Two-Ocean  Pass,  south  of  the 
Yellowstone  Park.  Nature  has  her  own  way 
of  doing  things,  and,  as  she  has  had  plenty 
of  time,  we  don't  always  know  just  how  she 
did  some  things." 

"I  wonder,"  said  Jesse,  as  he  looked  around 
him  at  the  great  mountains,  "if  these  old 
moimtains  ever  have  a  good  time  off  by  them- 
selves in  here.  They're  awfully  old,  aren't 
they?" 

"I'm  awfully  hungry,"  said  John.  "Let's 
go  on  back  to  camp." 

Uncle  Dick  smiled  and  led  the  way  into 
the  thick  underbrush  once  more.  They  had 
a  stiff  climb  before  they  reached  the  simimit 
of  their  ridge  where  the  timber  broke  away 
and  gave  them  once  more  their  splendid  view 
out  over  the  Miette  valley  and  the  moun- 
tains beyond.  They  ran  rapidly  down  this 
fair  slope  and  soon  were  in  camp,  where  Moise 
greeted  them  with  much  joy. 

"By  gar!"  said  he,  "those  boy,  she'll 
get  feesh,  eh?  What  I  tole  you,  Monsieur 
Deeck?" 

The  day  was  yet  young,  but  at  the  earnest 
request  of  his  young  companions  Uncle  Dick 
consented   to   rest   one   day   and   allow   the 

lOO 


RAINBOW  LAKE 

horses  to  graze,  as  he  had  promised.  There- 
fore the  boys  had  plenty  of  tinie'that  afternoon 
to  prowl  around  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
camp:  and  that  night  Moise,  having  also  had 
abundant  time  to  prepare  his  supper,  offered 
them  boiled  trout,  fried  trout,  and  griddled 
trout,  imtil  even  John  at  least  was  obliged 
to  cry  "  Enough." 


XI 

THE  PASS 

IT  seemed  to  our  Young  Alaskans  that 
Uncle  Dick  was  nothing  if  not  a  hard 
taskmaster  on  the  trail,  for  before  the  sun 
was  up  he  was  calling  them  out  of  their  tents. 

"Come  now,"  he  warned  them;  "get  out 
of  those  blankets  at  once !  You've  had  a  good 
day's  fishing,  and  now  we'll  have  to  make  a 
good  day's  travel  to  pay  up  for  it." 

Tired  from  their  tramp  of  the  day  before, 
they  all  groaned  protestingly ;  but  Moise  also 
called  out  from  his  fireside,  "Hello,  young 
mans!  Suppose  you'll  got  up  and  eat  some 
more  trout,  eh?" 

"I  certainly  am  hungry,"  said  John,  and 
in  their  laughter  at  John's  unfailing  appetite 
Rob  and  Jesse  found  themselves  awake. 

"Well,  get  out  and  get  the  horses,  young 
men,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  relentlessly,  "and  then 
back  to  breakfast  while  I  make  up  the  packs. 

I02 


THE   PASS 

You  see  those  three  peaks  on  ahead?  Well, 
we've  got  to  get  on  the  other  side  of  them 
just  as  soon  as  we  can.  We  can't  afford  to 
lose  a  minute  at  this  time  of  the  year,  for  the 
fords  will  be  bad  enough  even  as  they  are." 

When  at  length  their  little  pack-train  began 
its  slow  course  up  the  valley  of  the  Miette 
all  the  boys  turned  and  looked  behind  them 
to  say  good-by  to  the  great  valley  of  the 
Athabasca,  which  had  served  them  as  a  high- 
way for  so  long.  The  excitement  of  their  new 
adventures,  however,  kept  them  keyed  up, 
and  certainly  the  dangers  of  the  trail  were 
not  inconsiderable. 

The  old  pass  of  the  traders  now  swung 
away  from  the  river,  now  crossed  high  ridges, 
only  to  drop  again  into  boggy  creek-bottoms 
and  side-hill  muskeg.  Several  times  they  had 
to  ford  the  Miette,  no  easy  thing,  and  at 
other  times  small  streams  which  came  down 
from  the  mountains  at  the  right  also  had  to 
be  crossed.  The  three  white  peaks  ahead 
still  served  as  landmarks,  but  it  was  not  tmtil 
the  second  day  that  they  reached  the  fiat 
prairie  through  which  the  Miette  River  now 
wandered,  broken  into  many  little  channels. 
Even  here  they  found  the  going  very  soft  and 

7  103 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

difficult,  now  impeded  by  down  timber,  or 
again  by  a  rushing  torrent  where  the  ford  had 
to  be  selected  with  the  utmost  care.  John 
and  Jesse  were  tired  by  the  end  of  their  second 
day  of  this  hard  travel;  and  even  Rob,  muddy 
to  his  knees  from  wading  bogs,  was  glad  when 
at  last  their  leader  halted. 

"It's  all  right,  boys,"  said  Uncle  Dick. 
"I  don't  want  to  drive  you  too  hard,  but  I 
know  perfectly  well  that  every  day  counts 
with  us  now.  We've  got  bad  country  on 
ahead  as  well  as  bad  country  behind  us,  and 
we  must  make  it  through  before  the  spring 
floods  are  on.  I  suppose  you've  noticed  that 
all  the  creeks  are  worse  late  in  the  afternoon? 
But  I've  waited  at  some  of  these  little  streams 
four  and  five  days  without  being  able  to  ford 
at  all." 

They  pushed  on  up  through  the  open 
prairie-like  country  which  now  lay  on  about 
them,  continually  a  panorama  of  mountains 
unfolding  before  them,  all  strange  to  them. 
An  angle  of  the  trail  seemed  to  shut  off  all 
the  valley  of  the  Miette  from  them,  so  that 
they  seemed  in  a  different  world. 

"When  will  we  get  to  the  summit.  Uncle 
Dick?"  inquired  Rob,  after  a  time,  as  they 

104 


THE  PASS 

halted  at  the  edge  of  a  wide  green  valley  in 
whose  deep  grass  for  a  time  no  running  stream 
could  be  seen. 

Uncle  Dick  smiled.  ''We're  at  the  summit 
now,  you  might  say,"  said  he.  "I  knew  you 
couldn't  tell  when  we  got  there." 

"This  isn't  like  the  Peace  River  Pass  at 
all,"  said  Rob;  ''it  doesn't  look  like  a  pass 
at  all,  but  more  like  a  flat  prairie  country." 

"Precisely — they  call  that  the  Dominion 
Prairie  over  yonder.  But  a  mountain  pass  is 
rarely  what  it  is  supposed  to  be.  Take  the 
Tennessee  Pass,  for  instance,  down  in  Colo- 
rado; you'll  see  a  wide  meadow  with  a  dull 
creek  running  through  it,  something  like  this. 
The  deep  gorges  and  caiions  are  lower  down 
in  the  mountains,  not  on  top  of  them.  What 
you  see  before  you  is  the  old  Yellowhead  Pass, 
and  we  are  now  almost  at  the  highest  point. 
The  grade  rises  very  little  from  here  to  the 
actual  summit." 

"Well,"  said  John,  "I  never  thought  I'd 
be  in  a  place  like  this  in  all  my  life.  It  seems 
a  long  way  off  from  everywhere." 

"It  comes  near  being  the  wilderness,"  said 
his  imcle.  "Far  north  of  us  is  the  Peace 
River  Pass,  which  you  made  last  year.     Just 

105 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

the  other  way  is  the  Athabasca  Pass.  Yon- 
der, south  of  us,  is  Mount  Geikie,  between  us 
and  the  Athabasca.  Over  west  is  Mount 
FitzwilHam,  and  across  the  lake  from  him  is 
Yellowhead  Mountain;  that's  the  one  the 
early  traders  through  here  used  to  call  Mount 
Bingley.  And  on  every  side  of  us  there  is  all 
kinds  of  country  where,  so  far  as  any  one 
knows,  no  white  man's  foot  has  ever  trod. 
Northwest  of  the  pass  and  north  of  here  we 
don't  pretend  to  map  the  country,  and  not 
one  mountain  in  ten  has  got  its  name  yet. 
In  short,  we  are  in  the  wilderness  here  about 
as  much  as  you're  apt  to  be  in  many  a  long 
day's  journey,  no  matter  where  you  go." 

"And  yet  right  out  in  there  it  looks  like  a 
farm  meadow,"  said  Jesse,  pointing  to  the 
green  fiats  broken  with  willows  and  poplar 
mottes  here  and  there. 

"Beaver  out  there  one  time,  no  doubt," 
said  Uncle  Dick,  "and  maybe  even  now;  but 
sometime  there  will  be  farms  in  here.  At 
least,  this  is  the  top  of  the  mountains  and  the 
lowest  pass  in  all  the  Rockies.  I'll  show  you 
the  actual  summit  when  we  come  to  it."         i 

They  sat  for  some  time  looking  about  them 
and  allowing  their  horses  to  graze.     All  at 

io6 


THE   PASS 

once  Rob  broke  the  silence.  'Tm  going  to 
be  an  engineer  sometime,"  said  he.  "I  be- 
Heve  I'd  Hke  to  do  locating  work  in  wild 
countries  like  this." 

"As  for  me,"  said  John,  "I  believe  I'd 
rather  stay  in  the  office  and  make  maps  and 
things." 

"And  I'm  going  to  be  a  merchant,"  said 
Jesse,  "and  I'll  ship  things  over  your  road 
when  you  get  it  built." 

"That  reminds  me,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "you 
young  men  have  not  brought  up  your  own 
map  of  the  country  we  have  crossed  over. 
You  are  only  using  the  maps  that  you  could 
make  or  buy  ready-made.  Now,  John,  sup- 
pose you  be  official  map-maker  for  the  party 
and  take  your  notes  from  day  to  day." 

"Pshaw!  What  do  I  know  about  making  a 
map?"  said  John. 

"Well,  you  can  do  as  well  as  an  Indian; 
and  let  me  tell  you  an  Indian  can  make  a 
pretty  good  map  with  nothing  but  a  stick  and 
a  smooth  place  in  the  sand." 

"How  could  I  tell  how  far  it  was  from  one 
place  to  another?"  inquired  the  newly  elected 
map-maker. 

"We  can't  tell  so  very  well,  as  we  are  now 
107 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

traveling.  Of  course,  when  engineers  go  out 
in  a  party  they  measure  every  mile  by  a  chain, 
and  know  just  how  far  they  have  come. 
The  old  trappers  used  to  allow  three  or  four 
miles  an  hour  for  their  pack-horses  in  a  coun- 
try like  this.  Sometimes  an  engineer  carries 
what  is  called  a  pedometer  in  his  pocket, 
which  tells  him  how  far  he  has  walked.  Maybe 
you  did  not  know  that  instrument  was  in- 
vented by  Thomas  Jefferson  over  a  hundred 
years  ago?  Suppose  you  allow  twenty  or 
twenty-five  miles  a  day,  at  most,  for  our 
travel.  Now  you  have  your  compass,  and, 
though  you  don't  try  to  put  in  every  little 
bend  in  the  trail  or  in  the  valley,  you  take 
the  courses  of  all  the  long  valleys  and  the 
general  directions  from  one  peak  to  another. 
Thus  between  your  compass  and  your  pack- 
train  you  will  have  to  do  the  best  you  can 
with  your  map,  because  we  have  no  scientific 
instruments  to  help  us." 

"All  right,"  said  John.  "I'll  make  my 
notes  the  best  I  can,  and  every  night  we'll 
try  to  bring  up  the  map.  It  '11  be  fine  to  have 
when  we  get  back  home  to  show  our  folks, 
won't  it?" 

"Well,  I'll  help  you  all  I  can,"  said  Uncle 

io8 


THE  PASS 

Dick.  "You  remember  the  two  big  streams 
that  run  into  the  Miette  back  of  us,  where 
we  made  the  fourth  ford  of  the  Miette? 
Well,  that  is  just  about  eight  miles  from  the 
Athabasca  River.  If  we  had  not  lost  so 
much  time  with  the  horses  bogging  down  we 
ought  to  have  been  in  here  yesterday  instead 
of  to-day,  for  now  we  are  at  Deer  Creek,  and 
that  is  only  fourteen  miles  in  a  straight  line 
from  the  Athabasca.  This  prairie  between 
the  forks  of  Deer  Creek  is  called  Dominion 
Prairie.  The  valley  is  soft  and  marshy  for  a 
couple  of  miles  beyond  the  Dominion  Prairie, 
as  you  can  see  from  the  way  the  trail  runs 
over  the  edges  of  the  ridges.  The  grade  is  a 
little  bit  steeper  for  three  miles  west  of 
Dominion  Prairie.  The  w^dth  of  the  marsh 
or  meadow  in  here  is  about  half  a  mile  to  a 
mile.  At  the  last  crossing  of  the  Miette, 
three  miles  west  of  Dominion  Prairie,  the 
Miette  is  just  a  little  stream  with  many 
branches.  Now  note  very  well  the  last  one 
of  these  branches.  That  points  out  the  true 
summit  of  Yellowhead  Pass.  Perhaps  this 
very  summer,  if  there  is  high  water,  some  of 
the  drainage  water  will  run  west  from  this 
marsh  into  the  Fraser  River,  while  some  of  it 

109 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

will  run  east  into  the  Miette  and  the  Atha- 
basca." 

"Then  how  far  have  we  come  up  the 
Miette  all  together,  Uncle  Dick?"  inquired 
John,  his  pencil  in  his  mouth. 

"Only  about  seventeen  miles,  but  they  have 
been  rather  hard  ones.  We  have  climbed  about 
four  hundred  feet  all  together  in  total  ele- 
vation, but  a  great  deal  more  than  that  if  we 
count  all  the  little  ridges  we  have  crossed  over. 
Now  do  you  think  you  can  get  your  directions 
from  your  compass  and  make  your  map  from 
these  figures?" 

"I'll  try  my  best,"  said  John. 

"Well,  come  ahead,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "It 
isn't  far  from  here  to  the  place  we  call  the  top 
of  the  hill." 

Surely  enough,  after  a  little  more  scrambling 
progress  they  pulled  up  beside  a  little  square 
stump,  or  post,  to  which  Uncle  Dick  pointed 
silently. 

"I  helped  set  that,"  said  he,  "and,  believe 
me,  it  meant  some  work.  Well,  do  you  see 
the  figures  on  it?  Three,  seven,  two,  o — that's 
how  high  we  are  above  the  level  of  the  sea, 
and  this  is  the  lowest  of  all  the  mountain 
passes.     It  is  a  little  over  three  thousand  five 

no 


THE   PASS 

hundred  miles  between  the  Atlantic  and  the 
Pacific  on  this  railway  line,  and  this  is  the 
highest  point  on  the  whole  line.  Believe  me, 
my  young  friends,  you  are  at  rather  an  inter- 
esting place  right  here — so  interesting  that  if 
you  don't  mind  we'll  forget  the  short  day's 
travel  for  the  last  few  days  and  make  our 
day's  camp  right  here." 

Nothing  loath,  the  entire  party  assisted  in 
hunting  out  a  suitable  camping-spot  not  far 
from  the  actual  summit  where  grass  and  water 
were  to  be  found  and  a  fairly  good  place  for 
the  tents. 

John  was  much  excited  with  his  first  at- 
tempt at  map-making;  and  all  the  boys,  im- 
pressed by  the  interesting  nature  of  the  place 
in  which  they  were  encamped,  plied  the  leader 
of  the  party  with  many  questions. 

"I  was  thinking,"  said  Rob,  "that  the 
Yellowhead  Pass  was  one  of  the  earliest  ones 
found,  but  1826  is  not  so  very  early,  is  it?" 

"Not  so  very,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "I  told 
you  how  this  pass  came  to  be  discovered. 
Well,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  none  of  these  routes 
across  the  moimtains  were  so  useful  after  the 
big  fur  companies  had  established  posts  on  the 
Pacific  coast.     This  pass  was  used  more  than 

III 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

the  Peace  River  Pass.  The  traders  used  to 
bring  a  good  deal  of  buckskin  through  here, 
and  sometimes  this  was  called  the  Leather 
Pass. 

"Now  you  boys  are  going  down  the  Colum- 
bia River  on  the  latter  part  of  your  journey. 
You  heard  Swift  say  he  came  up  the  Columbia. 
Well,  that  was  part  of  the  old  highway  be- 
tween the  two  oceans.  In  1814  a  canoe 
brigade  started  up  the  Columbia  from  the 
Pacific  coast.  Gabriel  Franchere  was  along, 
and  he  made  a  journal  about  the  trip.  So  we 
know  that  as  early  as  May  16  in  18 14  they 
had  got  to  the  Athabasca  River.  He  men- 
tions the  Roche  Miette,  which  we  dodged 
by  fording  the  river,  and  he  himself  forded 
in  order  to  escape  climbing  it.  He  speaks  of 
the  Rocky  Mountain  House,  but  that  was  the 
same  as  Jasper  House.  You  must  remember, 
however,  he  did  not  cross  here,  but  went  down 
the  Athabasca  south  of  that  big  mountain 
you  see  over  yonder,  Mt.  Geikie. 

"Sir  George  Simpson  and  a  party  of  traders 
came  up  the  Columbia  in  1826,  but  they  also 
crossed  the  Athabasca  Pass.  They  named 
a  little  lake  in  there  the  Committee's  Punch 
Bowl,   and   it   has   that   name   to   this   day. 

112 


THE  PASS 

They  stopped  at  Henry  House,  and  at  Jasper 
House,  lower  down  at  Brule  Lake.  The  first 
record  of  which  I  know  of  a  crossing  made 
here  where  we  are  was  by  George  McDougall 
in  1827.  He  mentions  the  Tete  Jaime  Cache 
as  being  'freshly  discovered.'  I  presume  it 
was  found  a  year  before. 

"A  great  many  men  crossed  the  Athabasca 
Pass,  but  not  so  many  took  the  Yellowhead 
route.  Even  as  late  as  1839  the  traders  pre- 
ferred the  Athabasca  Pass  to  this  one.  Father 
de  Smet  took  that  route  in  1846.  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  the  mountain  called  Pyramid  Moim- 
tain  was  the  one  originally  called  De  Smet 
Mountain. 

"There  was  an  artist  by  the  name  of  Paul 
Kane  that  crossed  west  by  the  Athabasca 
Pass  in  1846.  In  those  days  the  Yellowhead 
Pass  was  little  used.  It  came  into  most 
prominence  after  the  Cariboo  Diggings  dis- 
coveries of  gold.  Parties  came  out  going  east 
as  early  as  i860  from  the  gold-mines.  About 
that  time  Sir  James  Hector  was  examining 
all  this  coimtry,  and  he  named  a  lot  of  it,  too. 
More  than  a  hundred  and  fifty  miners  went 
west  through  this  pass  in  '62  bound  for  the 
Cariboo  Diggings.     They  didn't  stop  to  name 

113 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

anything,  you  may  be  sure,  for  they  were  in  a 
hurry  to  get  to  the  gold;  but  in  1863  Viscount 
Milton  and  Dr.  Cheadle  went  across  here  and 
wrote  a  book  about  it  which  is  very  useful 
even  yet.  They  named  a  lot  of  mountains. 
I  don't  know  who  named  that  wonderful  peak 
Mount  Robson,  but  it  was  named  after 
Premier  Robson  of  British  Columbia  in  1865. 

"Nobody  knows  much  about  this  country, 
for  the  early  travelers  did  not  make  many 
maps  or  journals.  But  about  1872  they  began 
to  explore  this  country  with  a  view  to  railway 
explorations,  and  from  that  time  on  it  has 
been  better  known  and  more  visited,  although 
really  very  few  persons  have  ever  been  right 
where  we  are  sitting  now." 

"Well,"  said  Rob,  thoughtfully,  after  a 
time,  "after  all,  the  best  way  to  learn  about 
a  country  is  to  go  and  see  it  yourself.  You 
can  read  all  about  it  in  books,  but  still  it 
looks  different  when  you  come  to  see  it  your- 
self." 

"Wait  till  I  get  my  map  done,"  said  John, 
"and  many  a  time  after  this  we'll  talk  it  all 
over,  and  we  can  tell  on  the  map  right  where 
we  were  all  the  time." 

"Well,  you're  at  the  summit  now  at  this 
114 


THE   PASS 

camp,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "Yonder  to  the 
east  is  Miette  water.  Over  yonder  is  the 
Fraser.  It's  downhill  from  here  west,  and 
sometimes  downhill  rather  faster  than  you'll 
like.  We've  come  a  couple  of  hundred  miles 
on  our  journey  to  the  summit  here,  and  in  a 
little  more  than  fifty  more  we'll  be  at  the 
Tete  Jaune  Cache.  That's  on  the  Fraser — 
and  a  wicked  old  river  she  is,  too." 

"How's  the  trail  between  here  and  there. 
Uncle  Dick?"  asked  Jesse,  somewhat  anxiously. 
"Bad  enough,  you  may  depend." 
"And  don't  we  get  any  more  fishing?" 
Uncle  Dick  smiled.     "Well,  I'll  tell  you," 
said  he;   "we'll  probably  not  have  a  great 
many  chances  for  trout  as  good  as  we'll  have 
to-morrow.     It's  only  two  or  three  miles  from 
here  to  Yellowhead  Lake,  and  I  think  we'll 
find  that  almost   as  good  a  fishing-place  as 
Rainbow  Lake  was  the  other  day." 


XII 

THE   WILDERNESS 

IT'S  cold  up  here,  just  the  same,"  said 
Jesse,  when  he  rolled  out  of  his  blanket 
early  on  the  following  morning,  "and  the 
woods  and  moimtains  make  it  dark,  too,  on 
ahead  there.  Somehow  the  trees  don't  look 
just  the  same  to  me,  Uncle  Dick." 

''They're  not  the  same,"  said  Uncle  Dick, 
"and  I  am  glad  you  are  so  observing.  From 
here  on  the  trees  '11  get  bigger  and  bigger. 
They  always  are,  on  the  Pacific  side  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains.  The  east  side  is  far  more 
dry  and  barren.  When  you  get  down  into  the 
Columbia  valley  or  the  Fraser  country  you'll 
see  Douglas  firs  bigger  than  you  ever  thought 
a  tree  could  grow." 

"Yes,  and  devil's-club,  too,"  said  Rob. 
"I  stepped  on  one  just  a  little  while  ago,  and 
it  fiew  up  and  hit  me  on  the  knee." 

Uncle  Dick  laughed.  "You'll  see  devil's- 
ii6 


THE  WILDERNESS 

club  aplenty  before  you  get  done  with  this 
trip,"  said  he.  "In  fact,  I  will  say  for  all 
this  upper  country,  it  doesn't  seem  to  have 
been  laid  out  for  comfort  in  traveling.  The 
lower  Rockies,  in  our  country,  say  in  Wyoming 
and  Colorado,  are  the  best  outdoor  countries 
in  the  world.  It's  a  little  wet  and  soft  up 
here  sometimes,  although,  fortunately,  we've 
had  rather  good  weather. 

"From  now  on,"  he  continued,  "you'll  see 
a  change  in  the  vegetation.  You  can  still 
see  the  fireweed — it  seems  a  universal  plant 
all  the  way  from  the  Saskatchewan  to  the 
Peace  River  and  west  even  to  this  prairie  here. 
That  and  the  Indian  paint — that  red  flower 
which  you  all  remember — is  common  over  all 
the  north  coimtry.  Then  there  is  a  sort  of 
black  birch  which  grows  far  up  to  the  north, 
and  we  have  had  our  friends  the  willows  and 
the  poplars  quite  a  while.  Now  we'll  go  down- 
hill into  the  land  of  big  trees  and  devil's -club." 

"So  that's  the  last  of  the  YeUowhead  Pass 
for  this  trip,"  said  Rob,  turning  back,  as  within 
the  hour  after  they  had  arisen  they  were  in 
saddle  once  more  for  the  west-bound  trail. 

"Yes,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "one  of  the  most 
mysterious  of  all  the  passes.     I  often  wonder 

117 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

myself  just  what  time  it  was  that  old  Jasper 
Hawse  first  came  through  here." 

"Was  it  really  named  after  him,  and  who 
was  he?"  inquired  John. 

"Some  say  he  was  an  Iroquois  Indian  who 
had  red  hair — in  which  case  he  must  have  been 
part  white,  I  should  say.  Others  say  he  was 
a  Swede.  Yet  others  say  that  'Tete  Jaune,' 
or  '  Yellowhead,'  was  an  old  Indian  chief  who 
had  gray  hair.  Now,  I've  seen  a  few  white- 
haired  Indians — for  instance,  old  White  Calf, 
down  in  the  Blackfoot  reservation — and  their 
hair  seems  rather  yellow  more  than  pure 
white  when  they  are  very  old.  At  any  rate^ 
whoever  the  original  Tete  Jaune  was,  we  are 
bound  now  for  his  old  bivouac  on  the  Fraser, 
fifty  miles  below,  the  Tete  Jaune  Cache. 

"Every  man  who  wants  to  do  motintain 
exploring  has  heard  of  the  Tete  Jaune  Cache 
on  the  Fraser  River.  It  has  been  one  of  the 
most  inaccessible  places  in  the  Rockies.  But 
now  it  will  be  easy  to  get  there  in  a  year  or  so, 
and  I  am  sure  on  this  beautiful  Yellowhead 
Lake  just  ahead  of  us  somebody  will  put  up 
a  hotel  one  day  or  other,  and  they  will  make 
trails  around  in  these  mountains  and  kill  all 
these  goats  and  bear." 

ii8 


THE  WILDERNESS 

"How  far  is  it  down  to  the  lake?"  inquired 
Jesse,  pushing  up  his  riding-pony  alongside 
the  others. 

"About  half  an  hour,"  replied  his  uncle. 
"Not  too  good  a  trail,  and  about  a  hundred 
feet  drop  from  the  summit  down." 

Surely  enough,  they  had  gone  but  a  little 
distance  over  the  winding  and  difficult  blazed 
route  when  they  came  out  into  an  open  spot 
whence  they  could  see  Yellowhead  Lake  lying 
before  them.  It  was  a  lovely  sheet  of  water 
about  four  miles  long,  with  bold  mountains 
rising  on  either  side. 

"Now,  young  men,"  said  their  leader,  as 
they  paused,  "we'll  not  take  the  liberties  with 
these  mountains  that  some  of  the  earlier 
travelers  did.  We'll  call  that  big  mountain 
on  the  south  side  of  the  lake  Mount  Fitz- 
william.  On  the  north  side  is  old  Bingley, 
but  I  presume  we'd  just  as  well  call  it  Yellow- 
head  Mountain  now.  Some  called  it  Mount 
Pelee,  but  we'll  call  it  Yellowhead,  because 
it  seems  too  bad  the  pass  and  moimtain  should 
not  have  the  same  name  from  the  same  man — 
whoever  he  was.  That's  the  guardian  of  the 
pass  from  this  side,  at  any  rate.  It  looks  as 
though  it  shut  up  the  pass,  because,  you  see, 
8  119 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

it  bends  around  the  foot  of  the  mountain. 
I've  cHmbed  that  mountain  in  my  time — 
none  too  easy  a  job.  In  that  way  you  can 
see  the  headwaters  of  the  Fraser  River,  and 
glaciers  twenty  miles  south  of  here.  From  the 
top  of  Yellowhead  you  can  see  Mount  Geikie, 
although  we  are  past  it  now." 

"When  are  we  going  to  do  our  fishing?" 
inquired  John,  in  his  practical  fashion. 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you,"  said  his  uncle;  "if 
you'll  be  good  and  travel  steadily,  we'll  make 
camp  at  the  side  of  this  lake  and  fish  this 
afternoon." 

' '  Agreed , ' '  said  John ;  "  go  ahead . ' ' 

They  found  it  not  so  easy  to  go  ahead  as 
might  have  been  supposed,  for  the  trail  passed 
through  some  very  rough  and  troublesome 
country,  made  the  v/orse  by  burned  timber 
which  had  blown  down.  At  last,  however, 
they  made  their  way  along  the  northwest 
shore  and  neared  the  narrows  at  the  lower  end 
of  the  lake.  Here  they  found  a  low  peninsula 
jutting  out  into  the  lake,  where  there  was  a 
little  grass  and  good  clean  footing  as  well  as 
the  fine  shade  of  some  tall  pines. 

"Here  we  are,"  said  the  leader  of  the  party; 
and  soon  they  had  off -saddled  and  the  horses 

I20 


THE  WILDERNESS 

were  grazing,  while  the  others  prepared  for 
the  bivouac. 

"Now,  if  we  had  a  boat,"  said  Rob,  "I  be- 
Heve  we  would  get  some  trout  in  this  lake, 
and  good  ones,  too." 

"They're  here,  all  right,"  said  Uncle  Dick, 
"as  I  can  testify,  but  boats  don't  grow  in 
the  Rocky  Mountains  this  high  up.  You'll 
have  to  try  it  from  the  shore." 

"But  could  we  not  make  a  raft?  I  see  some 
pretty  good  cedar  timber  lying  along  here. 
And  I've  got  some  hay- wire  in  my  war-bag — 
I  never  travel  without  it."     Rob  was  eager. 

"And  a  very  good  thing  it  is  to  have  in 
camp,  too.  Well,  try  your  raft  if  you  like, 
but  be  careful." 

All  three  of  the  yoimg  Alaskans,  more  ex- 
perienced than  most  boys  of  their  age  in 
outdoor  work,  now  fell  at  the  task  of  making 
themselves  a  raft  or  float.  Soon  they  had 
half  a  dozen  cedar  logs  lying  side  by  side  in 
the  shallow  water,  their  limbs  trimmed  off 
closely  with  the  axes.  Under  Rob's  instruc- 
tions they  now  lashed  two  crosspieces  on  top 
of  the  logs,  using  the  wire  to  bind  them  fast 
to  each.  So  in  the  course  of  half  an  hour 
they  had  quite  a  substantial  raft  ready  for 

121 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

use.  Securing  a  couple  of  long  poles  to  use 
as  push -poles,  they  set  boldly  out  into  the 
shallow  bay  that  lay  before  them.  They  took 
only  one  rod  along,  assigning  to  John  the 
task  of  doing  the  angling  while  the  others 
endeavored  to  keep  the  raft  steady. 

"This  is  as  far  as  we  can  go,"  said  Rob 
after  a  while.  "Fifteen  feet  of  water, and  my 
pole  won't  touch  any  longer." 

"Well,  it  looks  fishy,"  said  John.  "Hold 
on,  fellows,  and  I'll  begin  to  cast." 

He  did  so,  standing  as  best  he  could  on  the 
uncertain  footing  under  which  the  green 
water,  clear  as  glass,  showed  the  sandy  bot- 
tom plainly  below  them.  Ordinarily  it  would 
have  been  impossible  to  catch  trout  in  water 
so  clear,  but  the  trout  of  the  Yellowhead 
Lake  at  that  time  were  hungry  and  unskilled. 
Therefore  John  had  hardly  cast  a  dozen  times 
before  he  saw  a  great  splash  and  felt  a  heavy 
tug  at  his  line.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  a  four- 
pound  rainbow  had  taken  the  fly. 

"My,  he's  a  whopper!"  said  John,  as  he 
struck,  and  endeavored  to  stop  the  first  rush 
of  the  big  fish. 

But  he  scarcely  finished  his  last  words,  for 
as  he  stepped  back  in  his  excitement,  his  foot 

122 


THE   WILDERNESS 

slipped  on  the  wet  bark  of  one  of  the  logs,  and 
over  he  went  backward  into  the  deep  green 
water  underneath ! 

It  happened  so  quickly  that  neither  Rob 
nor  Jesse  for  the  moment  could  understand  it. 
They  could  see  their  companion  clearly  in 
the  water,  struggling  and  twisting  as  he  went 
down,  and  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  a  mass 
of  white  bubbles,  which  almost  obscured  him 
from  view. 

"Look  out,  there!"  cried  Uncle  Dick,  from 
shore,  who  had  seen  it  all  perfectly.  At  the 
same  time  he  cast  off  his  coat  and  was  tug- 
ging at  his  shoes,  making  ready  to  swim 
out. 

But  just  at  that  time  the  head  and  face  of 
John  appeared  above  the  surface,  his  face 
distorted  with  fright  and  discomfort.  He 
struck  out  boldly  for  the  raft  just  at  the  in- 
stant when  Rob  held  out  to  him  the  end  of 
the  push-pole. 

"  Catch  hold  of  this,  John,"  said  he,  quietly. 

An  instant  later  the  puffing  swimmer  was 
at  the  raft. 

' '  Look  out  now, ' '  said  Rob ;  ' '  don't  swamp 
us.     Just  lie  there  till  I  get  you  in." 

''It's  cold!"  exclaimed  John;  and,  indeed, 
123 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

his  teeth  were  chattering  with  the  cold  of  the 
icy  moimtain  water. 

"All  right,  we'll  be  in  in  a  minute,"  said 
Rob ;  and  he  began  poling  the  raft  toward  shore 
as  rapidly  as  he  could.  They  were  not  out  fifty 
yards,  but  it  seemed  an  age  before  the  raft 
reached  shore — or,  rather,  reached  the  out- 
stretched hands  of  Uncle  Dick,  who  stood 
shoulder-deep  in  the  water  waiting  for  them. 

"I  was  afraid  of  that  raft,"  said  he,  "but 
it's  lucky  it  was  no  worse.     Come  here,  John." 

"It  wasn't  the  fault  of  the  raft,  sir,"  chat- 
tered John.  "I  just  got  foolish  and  slipped 
off.     I'm  all  right.     Where's  my  fish?" 

Surely  enough,  they  turned  to  the  other 
end  of  the  raft,  where  they  saw  John's  rod  fast 
between  two  logs,  where  the  reel  held  it  firmly. 
All  the  line  was  run  out,  but  when  Jesse 
reached  out  and  brought  in  the  rod  he  felt 
a  surge  at  the  other  end  which  told  that  the 
fish  was  still  on. 

"Let  me  have  him,"  said  John.  "I'm  just 
going  to  get  even  with  him  if  I  can,  and  take 
him  out  of  the  wet,  too." 

Much  relieved  at  seeing  him  so  plucky  and 
at  finding  him  now  safe,  the  others  roared 
with  laughter  as  he  stood,  wet  and  shivering, 

124 


THE  WILDERNESS 

at  the  edge  of  the  beach,  fighting  his  big  trout 
for  several  minutes  before  he  could  get  him 
in.  But  at  last  victory  rested  with  the -skilful 
yoimg  angler,  and  Uncle  Dick  with  a  piece  of 
coffee-sacking  scooped  out  the  big  rainbow  as 
he  came  inshore. 

"Well,  there,"  said  he,  "is  fish  enough  for 
supper.  Now,  John,  go  and  strip  and  wring 
your  clothes  and  dry  out  by  the  fire.  I  think 
maybe  that'll  be  fish  enough  for  a  while. 
We're  lucky  to  get  the  fish,  and  lucky  to  get 
you,  too,  for  it's  no  joke  to  go  overboard  in 
water  as  cold  as  that." 

"You  can  just  bet  it  isn't!"  said  John,  his 
face  now  almost  blue  with  cold,  although  he 
was  beginning  to  revive  in  the  warm  rays  of 
the  sun.  "Just  for  that,  I  am  going  to  eat 
that  fish — or  as  much  of  him  as  I  can." 


XIII 

AFTER   THE   WHITE   GOATS 

MOISE,  although  good-natured,  none  the 
less  was  fond  enough  of  good  living,  and, 
moreover,  disposed  to  rest  very  well  content 
when  the  camping  conditions  were  as  good  as 
those  in  which  they  now  found  themselves. 
He  thought  that  it  might  be  just  as  well  not 
to  be  in  too  big  a  hurry. 

"Suppose  we  did  get  caught  on  those  high 
water,  M'sieu  Deck,"  he  said;  "if  we  only 
wait  some  time,  she'll  run  down  bime-by. 
But  suppose  we'll  don't  got  nothing  to  eat 
but  bacon  and  flour,  and  go  starve  to  death. 
What  then?" 

"Well,  Moise,"  said  Rob,  as  they  sat  at  the 
breakfast-table,  where  the  good  voyageur  made 
this  remark,  "we've  got  a  whole  lake  full  of 
trout  there  waiting  for  us  to  go  out  and 
catch  them  —  if  we  didn't  fall  off  the  raft 
again." 

126 


AFTER  THE  WHITE  GOATS 

"Never  mind  about  that  raft  any  more, 
young  man,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "A  raft  is  all 
right  if  you  have  nothing  else,  and  if  "you 
have  to  use  it,  but  it  is  not  compulsory  here. 
We'll  just  leave  the  raft  business  and  try  for 
some  trout  down  here  in  the  creek." 

"There'll  ain't  no  trout  on  those  creek," 
objected  Moise.  "I'll  try  him  myself,  and  not 
get  no  bite.  Besides,  M'sieu  Deek,  feesh  is 
all  right  for  woman  and  dog,  but  meat  she 
is  more  better  for  strong  man." 

"That's  the  way  I  feel  about  it,"  said  John, 
his  mouth  half  full  of  bacon.  "I  wouldn't 
mind  a  little  fresh  meat  once  in  a  while.  But 
where  are  we  going  to  get  it?" 

"No  moose  up  in  here,"  volunteered  Jesse, 
"and  I  don't  suppose  any  caribou  either.  As 
for  sheep,  I  suppose  there  are  none  this  side 
of  the  high  peaks  east  of  here,  are  there.  Uncle 
Dick?" 

"Probably  not.  But  we'll  find  caribou  far- 
ther west.  Besides,  there  are  any  number  of 
white  goats  in  these  motmtains  all  around  us 
here.  I  suppose  you  know  what  they  are, 
although  I'm  not  sure  you  ever  saw  them  in 
Alaska." 

"I  know  them,"  said  Rob.     "They're  the 
127 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

greatest  climbers  in  the  world — 'On  top'  is 
their  motto  always." 

"That's  why  the  head  of  a  white  goat  is 
always  considered  a  good  trophy  among 
sportsmen ;  it  means  that  the  hunter  has  had 
to  climb  high  for  it.  They're  a  sporting  propo- 
sition, all  right,  those  goats ;  but  when  it  comes 
to  eating,  that's  something  different.  I  boiled 
goat  meat  two  days  straight  once,  and  it  was 
still  like  shoe  leather."  Uncle  Dick  shook  his 
head. 

"Oh,  you'll  got  old  goat — old  Guillaume 
goat,"  said  Moise.  "He's  too  tough  for  eat. 
But  s'pose  you'll  got  some  small  leetle  goat; 
she's  good  for  eat  like  anything." 

"So  I've  heard,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "but 
I'm  willing  to  take  my  chances  with  flour 
and  bacon." 

"Well,  now,"  said  Rob,  "if  there  are  goats 
in  here  I'd  like  awfully  well  to  try  to  photo- 
graph one,  at  least.  They  tell  me  they're 
so  dull  and  stupid  you  can  go  right  up  on 
them." 

"I'm  not  so  sure  about  their  being  stupid," 
replied  Uncle  Dick.  "I  think  it's  more  likely 
that  they  just  are  not  afraid  of  anything.  A 
big  billy  will  kill  any  dog  in  the  world,  and 

128 


AFTER  THE  WHITE  GOATS 

some  hunters  declare  that  they  will  even  fight 
a  grizzly  bear.  Their  little  black  horns  are 
sharp  as  needles,  and  they  can  hit  a  hard 
blow  with  that  neck  of  theirs,  backed  by 
a  couple  of  hundred  pounds  of  bone  and 
muscle. 

"Whatever  a  goat  may  be  as  to  wisdom, 
he  won't  run  away,  and  you  can  never  hurry 
him.  A  bighorn  will  run  for  miles  if  he 
smells  or  sees  you,  but  if  a  goat  sees  you 
he'll  take  his  own  time,  stop  and  look  at  you, 
and  then  go  off  as  slowly  as  he  likes.  If  you 
get  too  close  to  him,  he  may  stop  and  stamp 
his  feet,  and  work  his  lips  at  you,  and  show 
he's  angry.  But  he'll  never  show  he  is  scared. 
That's  why  they  are  so  easy  to  kill,  once  you 
climb  up  where  they  are.  That  ought  to 
make  them  easy  to  photograph,  too,  Rob.  I 
should  say  there  were  ten  chances  to  get  a 
goat  photograph  to  one  of  the  bighorn." 

"Do  you  suppose  there  are  any  around 
here?"  inquired  Jesse. 

"Plenty  of  them  on  old  Yellowhead  Moun- 
tain, right  here  above  us." 

"Well,  why  not  have  a  himt,  then?" 

Uncle  Dick  threw  up  his  hands.  "Now, 
there  you  go  again,  always  wanting  to  stop 

129 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

to  fish  or  hunt!     I've  told  you  that  we  ought 
to  hurry  on  through." 

"Well,  just  one  day!"  argued  John. 

Uncle  Dick  sighed.  "Well,"  said  he,  "we 
ought  to  be  glad  you're  not  drowned,  John. 
And  I  suppose  you  think  we  ought  to  make 
some  sacrifice  on  that  accoimt?  Well,  all 
right.  If  you  promise  to  be  contented  with 
one  day's  hunt,  and  to  start  out  to-morrow 
morning  and  keep  on  the  trail  until  we  strike 
the  Tete  Jaime  Cache,  I'll  agree  to  go  with 
you  to-day.  The  fact  is,  I  wouldn't  mind 
stretching  my  own  legs  a  little  bit,  for  I'm 
cramped  with  saddle  work.  But  I  warn  you 
it's  a  stifif  pull  up  that  mountain  there." 

"Shall  we  just  go  to  photograph?"  asked 
Rob,  "or  shall  we  take  the  rifle?" 

"As  you  like,  for  this  is  British  Coltimbia 
here,  and  I've  a  license  for  each  of  you  to 
shoot  game  as  needed.  But  we  only  want  one 
goat,  so  we  don't  need  to  take  more  than  one 
rifle.     And  it  really  is  hard  climbing." 

"Let  me  take  my  camera,"  said  Rob,  "and 
you  carry  the  rifle,  Uncle  Dick.  The  others 
won't  need  to  take  an3rthing  at  all." 

"Then  we  wouldn't  have  anything  to  do 
but  just  climb,"  protested  John. 

130 


AFTER  THE  WHITE  GOATS 

His  uncle  smiled  at  him.  "Come  now,'* 
said  he;  "I'll  let  you  do  the  shooting  if  you 
see  a  good,  fat  yoimg  goat.  For  my  part, 
I'd  as  soon  shoot  a  poor,  sick  calf  in  a  barn- 
yard. You  and  Jesse  decide  which  is  to  shoot, 
and  I'll  carry  the  gun  until  the  time  comes." 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Moise,  who  over- 
heard their  conversation.  "Those  boys  was 
both  fine  shot,  both  of  him.  You  let  him 
shoot  one  small,  leetle  goat  for  Moise,  and 
I'll  show  you  he's  good  for  eat." 

"Agreed,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "but,  mind  you, 
you've  only  got  to-night  to  cook  him — I  fear 
we  might  get  caught  in  the  high  waters  if  we 
stopped  here  imtil  you  boiled  it  tender!" 

They  made  ready  now  for  their  climb,  each, 
with  a  light  pair  of  nailed  boots  and  heavy 
stockings.  Under  their  leader's  advice  they 
stripped  down  to  their  flannel  shirts,  but  each 
carried  along  a  canvas  jacket,  ready  to  put 
on  when  they  reached  the  upper  heights  where 
the  wind  was  sure  to  be  very  cold.  Uncle 
Dick  carried  John's  rifle,  and  Rob  took  his 
favorite  camera,  provided  with  a  curtain 
shutter,  and  an  eye-piece  on  top  where  he 
could  look  in  and  see  the  game  on  the  ground 
glass  and  thus  focus  it  properly.     The  weather 

131 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

was  very  fine,  and  they  started  out  in  the  best 
of  spirits. 

They  walked  steadily  up  through  the  heavy 
pine  forest  which  covered  the  foot  of  the 
mountain ;  and  then,  striking  the  steeper  grade 
along  a  bare  ridge,  they  climbed  steadily  until, 
turning  about  and  looking  down,  they  could 
see  the  glorious  prospect  which  lay  below 
them.  The  surface  of  the  lake,  deep  green  in 
color,  barely  wrinkled  now  by  a  light  morning 
breeze,  was  visible  from  end  to  end,  three 
miles  or  more.  On  the  other  side  of  it  showed 
the  bold  peaks  of  Fitzwilliam  mountain,  back 
of  that  yet  other  peaks  were  disclosed  as  they 
climbed.  In  that  direction  there  lay  an  un- 
discovered country,  and  they  might  well 
reflect  that  few  even  had  looked  out  across 
it  as  they  themselves  now  were  doing  from 
their  lofty  perch.  They  knew  well  enough 
that  the  old  traders  who  passed  through 
here  rarely  left  the  trail  except  for  necessary 
hunting,  but  passed  on  through  as  rapidly  as 
they  might,  this  being  merely  their  highway, 
and  not  their  hunting-grounds. 

"What  is  this.  Uncle  Dick?"  called  Rob, 
after  a  time,  as,  turning  from  their  study  of 
the  noble  landscape,  they  resumed  their  work 

132 


AFTER  THE  WHITE  GOATS 

of  ascending  the  steep  mountainside.  Rob 
pointed  to  the  broken  surface  of  the  ground 
at  his  feet. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Rob?"  asked  the  older 
himter. 

"It  looks  as  if  horses  had  been  here,"  said 
Rob,  "yesterday,  late." 

"Yes,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  smiling,  "but  not 
horses,  I  should  say." 

"Maybe  not,"  said  Rob,  doubtfully.  "But 
I  thought  maybe  prospectors  had  been  in 
here." 

"Only  the  original  prospectors — the  ones 
with  white  coats  and  long  whiskers  and  sharp 
horns,"  said  Uncle  Dick. 

"But  it  looks  like  a  regular  trail!" 

"It  is  a  regular  trail,  but  if  you  will  look 
closer  you'll  see  the  hoof  marks.  Horses  do 
not  have  split  toes,  my  boy.  In  fact,  I  have 
no  doubt  this  is  the  regular  stairway  of  the 
goat  family  that  lives  on  this  mountain.  Like 
enough  they've  been  down  in  here  to  get  some 
different  sort  of  grass  or  water.  They've  evi- 
dently been  using  this  path  quite  a  while." 

"How  high  do  you  suppose  they  are  now?" 
inquired  John. 

"Who  can  tell?  A  mile  or  two,  or  three, 
133 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

or  five,  for  all  I  know.  It  will  take  us  two 
or  three  hours  to  get  up  to  the  rim-rock,  at 
least,  and  I've  usually  noticed  that  goats 
don't  stop  much  short  of  the  rim-rock  when 
they  start  to  go  up  a  hill.  The  sign  is  fresh, 
however,  made  late  last  night  or  very  early 
this  morning;  I  think  with  you,  Rob,  that 
it  was  yesterday." 

"How  many  are  there?"  inquired  Jesse, 
bending  over  the  broad  trail. 

"Hard  to  tell,  for  they've  used  this  trail 
more  than  once.  A  dozen  or  more,  I  should 
say.  Well,  all  we  can  do  is  to  follow  after 
them  and  thank  them  for  showing  us  a  good 
path." 

They  climbed  on  up  all  the  more  eagerly 
now,  and  when  they  reached  more  open 
country  where  the  sun  shone  fairly  on  them 
they  soon  were  dripping  with  perspiration. 
But,  young  as  were  these  hunters  from  Alaska, 
they  were  not  inexperienced  in  mountain- 
climbing.  They  knew  that  the  way  to  get 
up  a  mountain  is  to  keep  on  slowly  and  stead- 
ily, not  hurrying,  and  never  resting  very  long 
at  a  time.  Thus  they  advanced  for  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour,  until  they  could  see  still 
farther  out   over  the   country  below  them. 

134 


AFTER  THE  WHITE  GOATS 

Now  they  could  see  that  the  game  had  some- 
times wandered  about  feeding,  and  the  trail 
itself  divided  and  grew  fainter. 

Uncle  Dick  pointed  out  all  these  things 
quietly  and  suggested  that  they  would  better 
be  on  the  lookout.  They  advanced  now  more 
carefully,  and  whenever  they  came  to  the 
edge  of  an  open  reach  or  topped  some  shoulder 
of  the  slope  they  paused  and  examined  the 
country  ahead  very  carefully.  At  last,  when 
they  had  reached  an  altitude  where  the  trees 
were  much  smaller  and  more  scattering,  Uncle 
Dick  stopped  and  took  his  field-glasses  from 
the  case.  He  lay  for  some  time,  resting  the 
glasses  on  a  big  rock,  sweeping  all  the  country 
ahead  of  him  with  the  glasses.  At  last  they 
saw  him  stop  and  gaze  steadily  at  one  spot 
for  quite  a  while. 

"See  anything?"  asked  Jesse,  eagerly. 

Uncle  Dick  did  not  reply  at  once,  but  after 
a  time  handed  Jesse  the  glasses.  "Look  over 
there,"  said  he,  "about  half  a  mile,  right  at 
the  foot  of  that  rock  wall.  You'll  see  some- 
thing that  looks  like  a  flock  of  snowballs, 
rather  large  ones." 

Jesse  tried  the  glasses  for  a  time,  and  at 
last  caught  the  spot  pointed  out  to  him.  "I 
9  135 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

see,"  said  he,  in  a  whisper.  "Goats!  Lots 
of  them."  They  showed  so  plainly  in  the 
glasses,  in  fact,  that  he  spoke  carefully,  as 
though  he  feared  to  frighten  them. 

"Oh,  look  at  them!"  said  he,  after  a  while. 
"The  young  ones  are  playing  like  little  sheep, 
jumping  and  butting  around  and  having  a 
regular  frolic." 

"Any  big  ones?"  asked  Rob,  quickly. 

"I  should  say  so;  five  or  six,  all  sizes. 
And  they  look  white  as  big  pillows.  There's 
one  that  looks  as  though  he  had  on  white 
pants,  and  his  long  white  beard  makes  him 
look  like  an  old  man.  He's  looking  right 
down  the  mountain.  You  can  see  them  plain 
against  that  black  rock." 

' '  Just  like  a  goat , ' '  said  Uncle  Dick.  ' '  They 
never  try  to  hide  themselves.  And  even 
when  there's  snow  on  the  mountains  they'll 
leave  it  and  go  lie  on  a  black  rock  where 
everybody  can  see  them.  Well,  come  on, 
and  we'll  see  what  sort  of  a  stalk  we  can 
make  on  them." 

They  went  on  much  more  cautiously  now, 
under  Dick's  guidance,  keeping  under  cover 
in  the  low  trees  and  working  to  one  side 
and  upward  in  the  general  direction  of  their 

136 


AFTER  THE  WHITE  GOATS 

game.  It  was  hard  work,  and  all  the  boys 
were  panting  when  at  last  their  leader  called 
a  halt. 

"We'll  wait  here,"  said  he,  in  a  low  tone 
of  voice.  He  now  unslung  the  rifle  from  his 
back  and  handed  it  to  John.  "You  and 
Rob  go  on  now,"  said  he.  "Don't  shoot 
mitil  Rob  is  done  with  his  picture-making. 
And  when  you  do  shoot,  don't  kill  an  old 
billy,  for  we  couldn't  keep  the  head.  Kill 
one  of  the  young  goats — I  think  there  are  two 
or  three  yearlings  there.  I  wouldn't  shoot 
either  of  those  two  pairs  of  kids.  They're 
too  little  even  for  Moise,  I  think." 

"Where  are  you  going,  Uncle  Dick?"  asked 
Rob. 

"Jesse  and  I  are  going  to  stop  right  here 
under  cover,  and  Jesse  shall  have  the  sport 
of  watching  your  himt  through  the  field- 
glasses — almost  as  good  fun  as  going  along 
himself.    Go  on  now,  and  don't  lose  any  time." 

The  two  older  boys  now  advanced  carefully 
up  the  slope,  using  the  cover  of  the  trees  as 
far  as  they  could.  They  appeared  in  the 
open  for  a  little  time,  only  to  disappear  be- 
yond a  series  of  rocks  which  projected  from 
the  slope  above  them. 

137 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

"I  don't  see  where  they've  gone,"  said 
Jesse,  who  was  steadily  watching  through  the 
glasses. 

"Give  them  time,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "You 
must  remember  that  Rob  has  to  get  pretty 
close  in  order  to  make  the  photograph.  I'm 
sure  they're  within  rifle-range  now." 

"Oh,  there  they  are!"  whispered  Jesse,  a 
httle  later.  "I  see  them  now.  They're  up 
above  the  goats,  and  crawling  right  down 
toward  them.  Now  there's  old  Rob,  he's 
trying  to  get  to  the  edge  of  the  rocks;  I  can 
see  he's  got  his  camera  all  ready.  He'll  be 
on  top  of  them,  almost,  if  he  gets  there." 

' '  Good  boy,  Rob !' '  said  Uncle  Dick,  approv- 
ingly.    "He  has  made  a  good  stalk  of  it." 

Jesse,  still  gazing  through  the  glasses,  now 
saw  his  two  friends  slowly  advancing,  clinging 
like  flies  to  the  steep  rock's  face,  but  all  the 
time  getting  closer  to  their  game.  The  goats 
seemed  not  to  suspect  an  enemy,  but  lay  or 
stood  about  in  perfect  unconcern.  They  did 
not  have  any  sentinel  posted,  as  the  mountain 
sheep  often  will,  but  seemed  to  feel  perfectly 
secure  from  all  intrusion. 

At  last  Jesse  saw  Rob  stand  up  straight 
and  walk  forward  rapidly  with  his  camera 

138 


ROB  S   GOAT 


AFTER  THE  WHITE  GOATS 

in  front  of  him.  The  goats  now  heard  or 
scented  him,  for  at  once  they  all  stood  up  and 
turned  toward  him,  facing  him  silent  and 
motionless. 

"They  don't  know  what  he  is!"  exclaimed 
Jesse.  "They're  just  looking  at  him.  No, 
there  goes  a  big  one  right  up  toward  him." 

"In  that  case,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "Rob 
will  get  his  picture,  sure."  An  easy  prophecy, 
for,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  Rob  secured  several 
very  good  pictures  of  the  old  goat  and  the 
others,  as  he  stood  rapidly  working  his  camera, 
almost  in  the  face  of  the  fearless  old  billy 
which  advanced  toward  him  so  pugnaciously. 

But  now  Jesse  saw  the  band  of  goats  ap- 
parently take  alarm  at  something.  They 
turned  and  began  to  disperse,  some  of  them 
climbing  slowly  up  the  apparently  perpen- 
dicular rock  face. 

"They'll  run  right  into  John!"  exclaimed 
Jesse.  "There  he  is — there,  he's  shot!  Got 
him,  too!" 

They  heard  the  faint  sound  of  the  report 
of  the  rifle  come  down  from  above,  and  could 
see  the  fall  of  the  goat  as  he  slipped  and 
rolled  among  the  rocks. 

"Well  done,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "They've 
139 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

both  done  their  work  well,  Jesse,  and  I  am 
pretty  sure  we'll  have  both  goat  pictures  and 
goat  steaks,  all  we  want.  I'm  glad  John  did 
not  get  crazy  and  shoot  a  lot  of  those  poor 
creatures." 

"Come  on,"  said  Jesse,  "let's  run  up  to 
where  they  are." 

In  due  time  they  climbed  up  to  where  Rob 
and  Jesse  were  sitting  by  the  side  of  the  dead 
goat.  The  boys  waved  their  hats  to  one 
another  as  Jesse  approached,  smiling  and 
panting. 

"I  saw  it  all,"  said  Jesse,  "right  in  the  field- 
glasses,  close  up.     That's  fine,  isn't  it?" 

Rob  and  John  both  began  to  talk  at  once, 
while  Uncle  Dick  stood  smilingly  looking 
down  at  the  dead  goat. 

"I  could  have  killed  two  or  three  big  ones," 
said  John.     "What  heads  they  had,  too!" 

"What  could  we  have  done  with  them?" 
asked  his  uncle.  "No,  you  did  quite  right  in 
killing  this  yearling — it's  all  we  want.  And 
I  think  Rob  had  the  hardest  task  of  any  of 
us;  it's  easier  to  shoot  a  goat  with  a  rifle 
than  with  a  camera." 

"Well,"  said  Rob,  "it  was  just  the  way  you 
said — they  didn't  seem  afraid   at  all.     I've 

140 


AFTER  THE  WHITE  GOATS 

got  one  picture,  square  front  end,  of  that  old 
fellow,  and  I  don't  think  he  was  twenty  feet 
away  from  me.  He  seemed  to  think  the 
camera  was  something  that  was  going  to  hurt 
him,  and  he  showed  fight." 

"Now,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "the  next  thing 
is  to  get  our  meat  down  the  mountain." 

Rolling  up  his  sleeves,  he  now  prepared  to 
skin  out  such  meat  as  he  wanted  from  the 
dead  goat.  He  cut  off  the  head  and  neck, 
and  cut  off  the  legs  at  the  knee-joints.  Then 
he  skinned  back  only  the  fore  quarters,  leav- 
ing the  hide  still  attached  to  the  hind  quar- 
ters and  the  saddle.  Using  his  belt,  he  folded 
the  skin  over  the  saddle,  and  then,  tying  the 
sleeves  of  his  coat  so  that  it  covered  his  shoul- 
ders, he  hoisted  the  saddle  astride  of  his  neck. 

"I  don't  fancy  this  smell  very  much,"  said 
he,  "but  I  guess  it  will  be  the  easiest  way  to 
get  our  meat  down  the  mountain.  Come  on 
now,  boys,  every  fellow  for  himself,  and  be 
careful  not  to  get  a  fall." 

It  was  hard  and  sometimes  rather  slow 
work  scrambling  down  the  steep  face  of  the 
mountain,  especially  high  up  where  the  rocks 
were  bare.  But  after  a  time  they  came  to 
the  small  green  trees,  and  then  to  the  tall 

141 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

pines  under  whose  shade  the  ground  was 
softer  and  gave  them  a  better  footing.  It  did 
not  take  them  so  long  to  come  down  as  it  had 
to  ascend,  but  they  were  all  tired  when  late 
that  afternoon  they  arrived  at  their  camp  on 
the  little  promontory. 

Moise  was  overjoyed  at  their  success,  and 
was  all  for  cooking  some  of  the  meat  at  once ; 
but  Uncle  Dick  checked  him. 

"No,"  said  he,  "it's  too  fresh  yet.  Skin 
it  out,  Moise,  and  hang  it  up  overnight,  at 
least.  You  may  set  a  little  of  it  to  stew  all 
night  at  the  fire,  if  you  like.  Soak  some 
more  of  it  overnight  in  salt  and  water — and 
then  I  think  you'd  better  throw  away  all  the 
kettles  that  you've  used  with  this  goat  meat. 
It  may  be  all  right,  but  I'm  afraid  it's  going 
to  be  a  long  time  before  I  learn  to  like  goat. 
If  this  were  a  mountain  sheep,  now,  I  could 
eat  all  that  saddle  myself." 

Moise  asked  who  killed  the  goat,  and  when 
told  that  it  was  John  he  complimented  him 
very  much.  For  Rob's  work  with  the  camera 
he  had  less  praise. 

"I  s'pose  she's  all  right  to  make  picture  of 
goat,"  said  he,  "but  s'pose  a  man  he's  hongry, 
he  couldn't  eat  picture,  could  he?" 

142 


AFTER  THE  WHITE  GOATS 

Rob  only  laughed  at  him,  "You  wait, 
Moise,"  said  he.  "When  I  get  my  pictures 
made  maybe  you'd  rather  have  one  of  them 
than  another  piece  of  goat  meat." 

In  spite  of  Uncle  Dick's  disgust,  Moise  that 
evening  broiled  himself  a  piece  of  the  fresh 
goat  meat  at  the  fire,  and  ate  it  with  such 
relish  that  the  boys  asked  for  a  morsel  or  so 
of  it  themselves.  To  their  surprise,  they  foimd 
the  tenderloin  not  so  bad  to  eat.  Thus,  with 
one  excuse  or  another,  they  sat  around  the 
fire,  happy  and  contented,  imtil  the  leader 
of  the  party  at  last  drove  them  all  off  to  bed. 

"I  like  this  place,"  said  John,  "even  if  I 
did  come  pretty  nearly  getting  drowned  out 
there  in  the  lake." 

And  iadeed  the  spot  had  proved  so  pleasant 
in  every  way  that  it  was  only  with  a  feeling 
of  regret  that  they  broke  camp  on  Yellowhead 
Lake  and  proceeded  on  their  westward  journey. 


XIV 

DOWN   THE   FRASER 

UP  to  this  time  on  their  journey  the 
weather  had  continued  most  favorable, 
there  having  been  Httle  rain  to  disturb  them 
either  on  the  trail  or  in  camp.  Now,  however, 
they  were  on  the  western  slope  of  the  Rockies 
and  in  the  moister  climate  of  the  Pacific 
region.  When  they  left  camp  on  Yellowhead 
Lake  it  was  in  a  steady  downpour  which  left 
them  drenched  thoroughly  before  they  had 
gone  a  mile. 

The  trail,  moreover,  now  proved  not  only 
uncomfortable,  but  dangerous,  the  rain  making 
the  footing  so  soft  that  in  many  cases  on  steep 
slopes  they  were  obliged  to  dismount  and  lead 
their  horses  up  or  down.  Indeed,  the  trail 
scarcely  could  be  called  a  trail  at  all,  all  trace 
of  the  original  traders'  paths  now  being  lost. 
Many  persons,  mostly  engineers  or  prospect- 
ing adventurers,  had  passed  here,  each  taking 

144 


DOWN  THE   ERASER 

his  own  way,  and  the  sum  of  their  selections 
served  only  to  make  bad  very  much  worse. 
In  the  level  places  the  trail  was  a  quagmire,  on 
some  of  the  steeper  slopes  simply  a  zigzag 
of  scrambling  hoof  tracks. 

They  kept  on,  in  spite  of  their  discomforts, 
throughout  the  forenoon  without  pause.  It 
was  their  purpose  to  get  on  the  farther  side 
of  as  many  of  these  mountain  streams  as 
possible.  They  were  now  in  a  bold  mountain 
country,  where  numerous  small  tributaries 
came  down  to  the  great  Eraser  which  roared 
and  plunged  along  beside  their  trail.  "The 
Bad  River,"  old  Sir  Alexander  Mackenzie 
called  one  of  the  headwaters  of  the  Eraser, 
and  bad  enough  it  is  from  its  source  on  down. 

They  were  now  near  the  forks  of  the  two 
main  tributaries  of  the  Eraser,  one  roaring 
torrent  coming  down  from  the  south.  The 
trail  held  to  the  north  bank  of  the  Eraser, 
following  down  from  the  lake  along  the  rapid 
but  harmless  little  river  which  made  its  outlet. 
To  ford  the  Eraser  was,  of  course,  impossible. 
Time  and  again  the  young  adventurers  paused 
to  look  down  at  the  raging  torrent,  broken 
into  high,  foaming  waves  by  the  numerous 
reefs  of  rock  which  ran  across  it.  Continu- 
es 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

ally  the  roar  of  the  angry  waters  came  up  to 
them  through  the  trees.  More  than  ever  they 
realized  that  they  now  were  on  the  shores  of 
one  of  the  wickedest  rivers  in  all  the  Rockies, 
as  their  Uncle  Dick  had  told  them  of  the 
Fraser. 

They  now  observed  that  the  trees  of  the 
forest  through  which  they  traveled  were  much 
larger  than  they  had  been.  But,  splendid  as 
this  forest  growth  had  been,  they  found  that 
in  a  large  area  fire  had  gone  through  it  in 
some  previous  year,  and  this  burned  country — 
or  hrule,  as  Moise  called  it — made  one  of  the 
worst  obstacles  any  traveler  could  encounter. 
This  hardship  was  to  remain  with  them  al- 
most all  the  way  down  the  Fraser  to  the  Tete 
Jaune  Cache,  and  it  added  immeasurably  to 
the  trials  of  pack-train  travel. 

At  last  they  pulled  up  alongside  of  a  broad 
and  brawling  stream,  turbulent  but  shallow, 
a  little  threatening  to  one  not  skilled  in  moim- 
tain  travel,  but  not  dangerous  to  a  party  led 
as  was  this  one,  by  a  man  acquainted  with 
the  region. 

"Here  we  are  at  Grant  Creek,"  said  Uncle 

Dick,  as  they  paused  on  the  hither  side  of  the 

.stream.     "This   is   one   of   the   many   swift 

146 


DOWN  THE  FRASER 

tributaries  on  the  north  side  of  the  Fraser, 
but  I  am  glad  we've  got  to  ford  it,  and  not 
the  Fraser  itself.  You  see,  we  have  to  keep 
on  the  north  bank  all  the  way  down  now." 

Uncle  Dick  carefully  located  his  landmarks 
and  examined  some  stones  and  stumps  to  get 
some  idea  of  the  stage  of  the  water. 

"It's  all  right,"  said  he.  "Come  on  across. 
Follow  me  closely  now." 

Soon  they  were  belly-deep  in  the  tawny 
flood  of  the  stream,  which  came  down  noisily 
all  about  them.  The  sturdy  horses,  however, 
seemed  not  to  be  in  the  least  alarmed,  but 
followed  old  Danny,  Uncle  Dick's  pony,  as 
he  slowly  plodded  on  across,  angling  down 
the  stream  and  never  once  losing  his  footing 
in  the  rolling  stones  of  the  bottom.  The 
stream  was  not  over  a  hundred  and  twenty 
feet  wide  at  this  point,  and  the  ford  was  made 
with  no  difficulty  at  all. 

"This  is  easy,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  as  they 
emerged  on  the  western  side.  "But  three 
miles  ahead  we  come  to  the  Moose  River,  and 
that's  apt  to  be  a  different  proposition.  You 
can't  tell  an3rthing  about  any  of  these  rivers 
until  you  try  them.  One  thing  is  sure,  we 
can't  get  any  wetter  than  we  are." 

147 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

"I've  noticed  all  these  streams  are  highest 
in  the  afternoon,"  said  Rob — "a  lot  higher, 
too.     We've  often  mentioned  that." 

"Yes;  that's  because  the  snow  melts  in  the 
morning  and  starts  the  water  down  the  high 
slopes.  It  takes  some  time  for  it  to  get 
down  to  the  lower  levels.  Morning  is  the 
best  time  to  ford  any  of  these  moimtain 
rivers,  as  I  have  told  you." 

The  trail  was  none  too  good  on  to  the 
Moose  River,  and  they  were  none  too  cheerful 
as  they  paused  to  look  over  the  situation  at 
the  bank  of  this  stream. 

"When  I  crossed  here  the  last  time  I  marked 
a  stump  with  an  ax,"  said  Uncle  Dick. 
"That  was  barely  below  swimming -line.  Ah, 
there  it  is,  I  see — we've  got  six  inches  to  the 
good,  and  that  means  we  can  get  across,  I 
think.  It's  lucky  it  isn't  worse.  There  are 
some  falls  up  this  river  a  little  way,  and  per- 
haps we  could  get  across  the  narrows  there, 
but  in  any  case  we  would  have  to  get  the  horses 
across  down  here,  and  we  had  better  all  make 
it  together.  Anyhow,  I'll  go  ahead  on  Danny 
and  see  how  it  works.  Moise,  you'll  bring 
up  the  rear;  Rob,  you  go  next  ahead  of  Moise, 
and  you,  John  and  Jesse,  follow  just  behind 

148 


DOWN  THE   FRASER 

me  a  little  way  back.  If  Danny  loses  his 
footing,  all  of  you  stop  at  once  and  wait  for 
further  orders.     Well,  here  goes." 

He  spurred  his  plucky  little  horse  into  the 
roily,  turbulent  flood,  closely  followed  by  the 
others  as  he  had  instructed.  Fortunately,  the 
pack-train,  by  this  time  well  broken  into  the 
work  of  the  trail,  made  no  disturbance,  but 
followed  along  stolidly  in  the  rear  of  the 
leader.  Thus,  little  by  little,  they  edged  on 
across  and  at  last  crossed  the  dangerous  mid- 
dle part  of  the  river.  Here  Uncle  Dick  angled 
a  little  down,  following  the  shallow  water 
indicated  by  the  light  ripples.  As  the  boys 
saw  Danny  begin  to  show  more  and  more 
above  the  surface  of  the  water,  imtil  he  was 
walking  no  deeper  than  his  knees,  they  swung 
their  hats  and  shouted  exultantly,  for  now 
they  were  safely  to  cross  one  of  the  most 
dangerous  rivers  on  the  whole  trail. 

"Well,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  as  at  last  they 
pulled  up  on  the  farther  side,  "that's  done, 
at  any  rate.  From  here  it's  only  a  couple  of 
miles  or  so  to  the  head  of  Moose  Lake.  The 
trail  is  fierce  along  there,  but  once  beyond 
that  lake  we  can  safely  call  the  worst  of  our 
whole  journey  past  and  done  with.     We  can 

149 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

make  it  in  a  few  hours'  steady  work  if  we 
have  luck." 

They  pushed  on,  and  after  a  time  paused 
at  a  point  near  the  head  of  Moose  Lake,  from 
which  they  could  see  it  lying  before  them, 
seven  miles  or  so  of  slaty  gray  water,  now 
wrinkled  under  the  downpouring  rain.  It  was 
a  prospect  not  in  the  least  cheerful,  to  be  sure. 

"The  Fraser  River  runs  straight  through 
this  lake,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "and,  as  you  see, 
it  is  getting  more  water  every  mile  out  of 
these  hills.  This  is  the  only  quiet  place  on 
the  whole  Fraser  River  that  I  know  of.  But 
we  can't  get  across  it,  couldn't  even  if  we  had 
boats,  for  here  are  the  horses. 

"But  if  we  could  cross  the  lake  here,  and  if 
we  could  cross  the  Selwyn  Mountains  over 
there  on  the  other  side  of  it,  we  would  find  a 
little  creek  up  there  which  heads  up  just  oppo- 
site Price  Creek.  You  see,  Price  Creek  runs 
down  into  the  Canoe  River,  which  is  the 
stream  we're  going  to  follow  below  Tete 
Jaune  Cache.  They  say  the  Indians  used  to 
take  horses  up  this  little  creek  and  down 
Price  Creek  on  the  other  side.  If  so,  they 
must  have  had  horses  bom  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Fraser,  for  I'll  warrant  they  couldn't 

150 


DOWN  THE   FRASER 

get  them  across  from  the  north  side  where 
we  are." 

"Did  any  white  man  ever  go  over  that 
way?"  asked  Rob,  curiously. 

"Not  that  I  know  of.  I  don't  know  when 
the  Indians  went  there,  but  there's  a  story 
that  some  of  them  took  horses  across  the 
Selwyns  over  yonder.  As  for  us,  we've  got 
to  keep  on  down  this  valley.  We  are  twenty 
miles  west  from  the  Yellowhead  Pass,  and 
have  thirty  miles  more  to  go  yet  to  the  Tete 
Jaune  Cache." 

"What  are  these  big  mountains  over  on  the 
right?"  inquired  Rob. 

"That's  the  Rainbow  range.  We  make  our 
way  right  along  their  feet.  On  beyond  the 
lake  for  some  distance  the  river  is  a  little  more 
quiet,  then  she  drops;  that's  all.  There's  a 
strip  of  water  in  here  twenty  miles  or  so  that 
no  boat  could  live  in  at  all.  There  were  two 
rattle-headed  engineers  who  did  try  to  take  a 
boat  down  a  part  of  the  Fraser  in  here,  and 
in  some  miraculous  way  they  ran  maybe  ten 
or  twelve  miles  of  it,  part  in  and  part  out  of 
the  water.  Then  their  boat  smashed  on  a 
rock,  and  they  both  were  drowned.  One  body 
was  found,  the  other  was  never  heard  of." 
10  151 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

"Well,"  said  John,  "we're  complaining  a 
good  deal  about  going  along  on  horses,  but  I 
believe  I  like  that  better  than  taking  a  boat 
on  that  river." 

"When  we'll  make  camp  to-day,  M'sieu 
Deek?"  asked  Moise,  pushing  up  alongside 
the  leader's  horse.  They  all  sat  in  the  rain, 
dripping  like  so  many  drowned  rats. 

"Well,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "this  is  pretty 
bad,  isn't  it?  It  seems  to  me  that  we  had 
better  use  all  the  daylight  we  can  to-day,  for 
we're  wet  as  we  can  get  an5rway.  There  are 
no  bad  streams  now,  but  the  trail  is  awful  of 
itself — side-hills  and  hrule,  and  in  and  out  of 
the  water  all  along  the  lake  side.  But  we've 
got  to  pass  it  some  time.  Suppose  we  make 
the  best  of  a  bad  bargain,  and  see  if  we  can 
get  to  the  lower  end  of  the  lake  to-day?" 

The  boys  all  agreed  to  this,  and  so  the 
party  pushed  on,  but  they  found  later  that 
the  prediction  of  their  leader  was  quite  true, 
for  none  of  them  had  ever  seen  so  fearful  a 
trail  as  that  along  the  north  shore  of  Moose 
Lake.  But  even  as  it  grew  darker  in  the 
deep  valley  at  last  they  broke  through  the 
farther  edge  of  the  heaviest  timber,  picked 
their  way  through  a  wide  strip  of  bride,  crossed 

152 


DOWN  THE   ERASER 

the  last  dangerous  face  of  rock  side,  and 
emerged  into  an  open  area  where  some  sort 
of  camp  at  last  was  possible.  Here  they  dis- 
mounted, all  ready  to  agree  that  this  was  the 
worst  day  any  of  them  had  ever  seen  on  the 
trail. 

"Well,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  chuckling,  "I 
pushed  pretty  hard  to-day,  but  I  had  to  make 
up  for  that  lost  day  we  spent  hunting  goats. 
To  tell  the  truth,  I  didn't  think  we  could  get 
this  far  on  to-day,  and  so  I  just  count  we're 
even  on  the  goat-hunt.  Besides,  we  are  now 
past  the  worst  part  of  our  troubles.  To- 
morrow I  promise  you  something  worth  all 
the  hard  work  we've  undergone." 

"What's  that?"  demanded  Jesse.  "Some 
more  hunting?" 

"Certainly    not.     You've    another    guess, 
Jesse.     Something  better  than  that." 
"You  don't  mean  sheep  or  grizzly?" 
"Something  bigger  than  grizzly,  even." 
"That,"  said  Rob,  "must  be  a  mountain." 
"Quite  right.     I'm  going  to  show  you  the 
greatest  mountain  in  all  the  Canadian  Rockies, 
and  one  of  the  greatest  moimtains  on  this 
continent.     It  isn't  known  very  much  to-day, 
but  soon  Mount  Robson  will  be  one  of  the 

153 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

show-places  of  this  whole  country.  The 
Indians  have  always  called  it  the  biggest  of 
all  these  mountains,  time  out  of  mind." 

"What  time  shall  we  see  it?"  inquired  Rob. 

"That  depends  a  great  deal.  It  '11  be  about 
fourteen  miles  down  the  trail  to  the  Grand 
Fork  Valley.  Looking  right  up  that,  we'll  be 
staring  into  the  face  of  old  Robson.  I  only 
hope  the  rain  will  be  done  by  that  time,  so 
that  the  sun  will  shine  and  give  us  a  fair 
view.  It's  very  rarely  that  one  ever  sees 
Mount  Robson  clear  to  the  top.  But  suffi- 
cient for  to-day  are  the  evils,  I  presume. 
Let's  see  if  we  can  make  ourselves  comfortable 
in  camp  to-night." 

"One  thing,"  said  John,  that  night,  "this 
horse  business  isn't  going  to  last  forever. 
I  hope  the  Canoe  River  isn't  as  bad  as  the 
Fraser,  for  I'm  getting  ready  to  get  into  a 
boat  once  more.  I've  changed  my  mind  a 
little." 

"I  wonder  where  the  Canoe  River  got  its 
name.  Uncle  Dick?"  queried  Rob. 

"That  I  cannot  tell  you.  There  are  some 
canoes  on  the  Fraser  which  came  up  from  the 
Pacific  way,  and  there  are  some  canoe  birches 
in  these  woods,  this  side  of  the  summit.     Now, 

154 


DOWN  THE   FRASER 

whether  some  of  the  old  traders  one  day  made 
a  birch -bark  canoe  and  ran  that  stream  I  can't 
tell.  But  that  is  the  name  given  to  it  by  the 
traders,  and  I  suppose  they  got  it  from  the 
earlier  traders  who  crossed  this  coimtry. 

"John,"  he  added,  "this  is  a  hard  place 
for  you  to  bring  up  your  map.  I'll  excuse 
you  from  your  map -making  imtil  we  have  a 
drier  camp  than  this." 


XV 

THE  GREAT  MOUNTAIN 

HAPPILY  on  the  next  day  the  weather 
relented  and  the  sun  greeted  them  when 
they  were  ready  for  their  breakfast,  although 
all  the  trees  were  dripping  wet.  Uncle  Dick 
was  very  much  rejoiced. 

"We'll  see  Robson  to-day  if  this  sun  holds," 
said  he.     ''Let's  hurry  on." 

"There  you  go!"  grumbled  John.  "Uncle 
Dick,  you  always  are  finding  one  reason  or 
other  for  being  in  a  hurry." 

"Well,  everything  in  here  is  in  a  hurry," 
was  his  uncle's  answer.  "All  the  water's  in 
a  hurry,  and  all  the  engineers  are  in  a  hurry. 
But,  speaking  of  that,  you  may  notice  that 
below  the  lake  here  the  slopes  are  not  quite 
so  steep.  The  river  is  getting  wider.  By 
and  by  it  will  be  so  tame  that  you  really  can 
run  a  boat  on  it.  The  Tete  Jaune  Cache 
was  what  you  might  call  the  head  of  water 
transportation  on  the  west  side — as  far  as 

156 


THE  GREAT  MOUNTAIN 

the  canoes  dared  attempt  the  Fraser  going 
east.  From  the  Tete  Jaune  Cache  it  is  pos- 
sible to  make  a  canoe  journey  up  and  down 
the  river  between  that  point  and  Fort  George, 
although  every  time  one  makes  the  journey 
he  takes  his  own  chances." 

"Is  the  Canoe  River  a  very  bad  river,  then?" 
demanded  John. 

"  Well,  as  to  that,  she's  jammed  and  drifted 
and  overhung  and  fast,  but  not  so  bad  as  the 
Peace  River  was  in  many  places,"  replied 
Uncle  Dick.  "I  don't  think  we  need  have 
much  anxiety  as  to  that  part  of  our  journey. 
At  least,  we'll  not  worry  about  it  yet,  for 
worrying  doesn't  get  anybody  anything.  I 
only  hope  that  Mount  Robson  will  not  put  on 
his  cap  until  we  get  down  to  the  lower  end  of 
the  Grand  Fork  Valley." 

They  foimd  their  trail  now  as  it  had  been 
described,  less  dangerous.  Indeed,  there  was 
but  one  risky  crossing,  that  of  a  rock  slide 
which  ran  down  sheer  to  the  river-bank,  where 
a  misstep  might  have  been  fatal.  They  kept 
steadily  on  imtil  at  length  they  opened  up  the 
wide  valley  of  the  Grand  Fork,  a  tributary 
which  comes  down  from  the  great  peaks  which 
surround  the  noble  mountain  known  as  Robson. 

157 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

When  at  last  the  full  view  up  this  valley 
unfolded  before  them  they  pulled  up  and 
paused,  not  saying  a  word.  It  was  a  won- 
derful sight  that  lay  before  them,  one  of  the 
most  wonderful  in  all  the  great  Rockies.  On 
every  hand  ran  frowning  slopes  crowned  with 
dark  forest  growth,  flanked  here  and  there  by 
the  yet  darker  shadows  of  the  passing  clouds. 
But  towering  above  all,  and  dwarfing  all 
rivalry,  there  stood  before  them  one  great, 
noble,  white-topped  peak,  unshaded  by  any 
clouds.  As  the  boys  gazed  at  it  instinctively 
they  took  off  their  caps. 

"That's  Robson!"  said  Uncle  Dick,  smiling. 
"Any  way  you  look  at  it  it's  big.  Here  you 
see  a  sheer  wall  of  bare  rock,  thousands  of 
feet.  The  approach  is  steep  as  the  roof  of  a 
house,  as  you  can  see.  All  over  it  in  every 
little  valley  there  are  glaciers.  Any  way  you 
approach  it  it's  hard  going  when  you  try  to 
climb  old  Robson — '  Yuh-hai-has-kun,*  the 
Indians  called  it,  'the  mountain  with  the 
stairs.'  But  when  they  tried  to  climb  it  they 
never  could  quite  find  the  stairs.  So  far  no 
one  has  made  the  ascent.* 

^At  the  time  of  this  journey  the  Kinney  ascension  of  Mount 
Robson  had  not  yet  been  made. — The  Author. 

158 


>^': 


THE  GREAT  MOUNTAIN 

"  Many  a  man  has  heard  of  this  mountain," 
continued  Uncle  Dick,  "and  a  good  many 
have  tried  to  chmb  it.  One  party  spent  all 
the  season  trying  to  get  behind  it  and  find  a 
way  up.  But  Robson  doesn't  seem  to  have 
any  blind  side." 

"Why  can't  we  try  it?"  said  Rob,  enthusi- 
astically. 

"Some  day,  perhaps,"  smiled  Uncle  Dick, 
"but  hardly  now,  as  short  of  grub  as  we  are, 
and  as  short  of  time  as  well.  Mountain 
climbing  is  a  business  of  itself,  and  you  need 
a  complete  equipment.  It  would  take  a  year, 
two  years,  or  three  to  climb  Robson,  very 
likely.  So  with  two  or  three  days  at  our 
disposal  I'll  have  to  ask  to  be  excused  from 
the  attempt;  let  us  take  on  something  easier 
for  an  order. 

"Now,"  he  added,  "about  all  we  can  do  is 
to  take  off  our  hats  to  the  old  peak  and  say 
good  morning  as  we  pass." 

"And  thank  you  very  much.  Sir  Mountain," 
said  Jesse,  gravely,  his  young  face  serious  as 
he  looked  toward  the  peak,  "because  you 
let  us  see  clear  all  up  to  the  top." 

"It  mightn't  happen  once  in  months,"  said 
Uncle  Dick.     "I've  passed  here  several  times, 

159 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

and  I've  never  had  as  fine  a  view  as  we  have 
right  now.  She's  thirteen  thousand  seven 
hundred  feet,  our  triangulations  made  it. 
That's  something  of  a  moimtain,  to  be  hid 
back  in  here  all  by  itself,  isn't  it? 

"Up  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,"  he  con- 
tinued, "there's  a  fine  lake,  as  lovely  as  Lake 
Louise  down  in  the  lower  Rockies.  I  do  wish 
we  had  time  to  go  up  in  there,  for  the  lake  is 
worth  seeing.  Some  day  it  will  be  famous, 
and  visited  by  thousands.  At  least  we  can 
see  the  edge  of  it  from  where  we  are,  and 
lucky  you  are  to  have  so  early  a  look,  I  can 
assure  you. 

"Well,  we'll  be  going  on,"  said  he,  presently, 
as  he  gathered  up  his  reins.  "We  can't  take 
the  time  now  for  fifteen  miles  of  the  sort  of 
travel  that  lies  between  here  and  the  foot  of 
the  mountain.  At  least  we've  seen  Robson, 
full  front  and  clear  all  the  way  to  the  summit 
— a  most  unusual  sight.  You  may  always 
remember  now  that  you  saw  this  mountain 
before  it  became  common." 

They  forded  the  Grand  Fork  itself  without 
much  difficulty,  for  it  was  a  fiat  and  shallow 
stream  at  this  point.  Passing  on  to  the  west- 
ward, they  finally  encamped  in  a  fiat  from 

x6o 


THE  GREAT  MOUNTAIN 

which  they  still  could  see  up  the  valley,  it 
being  the  wish  of  all  to  keep  in  view  as  long  as 
possible  the  great  white  summit  of  Yuh-hai- 
has-kun. 

"To-morrow  we'll  say  good-by  to  Robson," 
said  Uncle  Dick,  "and  we'll  camp  at  the 
Tete  Jaune  Cache." 


XVI 

AT  THE  TETE  JAUNE  CACHE 

THE  last  day  on  the  trail !"  Such  was  the 
first  word  with  which  the  leader  of  our 
little  party  greeted  his  young  friends  when 
they  rolled  out  of  their  tents  in  the  morning. 
And  soon  all  hands  were  busy  adjusting  the 
packs  ready  for  the  plucky  animals  which  had 
brought  them  through  so  far.  Their  break- 
fast was  hurried  as  rapidly  as  possible. 

"Well,"  said  Rob,  "I  don't  know  whether 
or  not  to  be  glad.  We  certainly  have  had  a 
grand  trip  with  the  pack-train,  hard  as  it  has 
been  sometimes.  At  least  it's  brought  us  here 
to  the  foot  of  Moimt  Robson." 

"Our  horses  will  be  glad  enough  to  be  done 
with  it,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "Down  at  the 
Cache  they'll  have  all  the  grass  they  want  and 
nothing  to  do  for  all  the  rest  of  this  summer 
— imless  some  of  Leo's  children  take  to  riding 
them  too  hard." 

162 


AT  THE  TETE  JAUNE  CACHE 

"Leo?"  inquired  John.  ''He's  the  Indian 
who's  going  to  take  us  down  the  Canoe  River, 
isn't  he?" 

"Yes,  and  a  good  man,  too,  Leo.  He  and 
Moise  will  show  us  how  to  get  along  without 
the  horses,  eh,  Moise?" 

That  good-natured  man  grinned  and  showed 
his  white  teeth.  "Some  tarn'  she'll  ron  pretty 
fast,  this  river  on  Columbia  valley?"  said  he. 

"Well,  at  any  rate,  we  turn  in  our  horses 
with  Leo  here  at  the  Cache  and  get  them  the 
next  time  we  come  through — next  year  or 
some  other  year,  perhaps.  A  horse  takes  his 
chance  of  getting  a  permanent  residence  in 
this  part  of  the  world.  But  our  train  has 
come  through  in  fine  shape — not  a  sore  back 
in  the  lot.  That  speaks  well  for  your  care  in 
packing,  young  men,  and  for  Moise's  skill  in 
making  saddles." 

By  this  time  they  all  had  shaken  down  into 
the  routine  of  packing  the  horses  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  not  long  after  they  had  finished  their 
breakfast  all  was  in  readiness  for  their  last 
march. 

''En  avantf*  said  Uncle  Dick.  "Mush! 
Moise,  we'll  lunch  at  the  Cache  to-day." 

They  swung  on  steadily  down  the  broadened 
163 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

valley  whose  course  now  changed  more  to  the 
southwest  for  five  miles  or  so.  The  trail  was 
much  better,  and  as  they  reached  the  wide 
eastern  end  of  the  valley,  which  broadens  out 
near  the  historic  T6te  Jaune  Cache,  they  made 
rapid  progress,  animated  by  the  continually 
changing  scene  before  them. 

For  the  last  five  miles  they  were  in  a  broad, 
grassy  valley  where  many  hoofs  had  worn  a 
plainly  marked  trail.  On  ahead  they  could 
see  the  Fraser  swinging  in  from  its  southwest 
bend  to  meet  them.  The  courses  of  many 
other  small  streams,  outlined  by  green  bushes, 
also  could  be  seen  coming  in  from  almost 
every  direction.  Farther  to  the  west  and 
south  lofty  mountains  rose,  broken  by  caps 
which  seemed  to  be  of  no  great  altitude.  The 
Selwyns,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Fraser,  stood 
behind  them,  and  off  on  the  right  gradually 
rose  the  high,  sweeping  hills  which  climbed 
to  the  shoulders  of  Mount  Robson  itself. 
The  whole  made  an  extraordinary  landscape. 

"We're  in  the  Tete  Jaime  Valley,"  said 
Uncle  Dick,  halting  at  the  edge  of  the  grassy 
expanse  which  seemed  quite  flat  for  five  miles 
or  so  ahead  of  them.  "We're  coming  now  to 
one  of  the  most  interesting  points  in  all  the 

164 


AT  THE  TETE  JAUNE  CACHE 

Rocky  Mountains,  and  one  of  the  least  known. 
Some  day,  where  we  are  here,  there  will  be  a 
town,  perhaps  a  good  one.  Yonder  is  the 
original  pathway  of  the  Fraser — five  hundred 
feet  across  here  already,  and  a  great  river 
before  it  gets  much  farther  toward  the  Pacific. 
We  leave  it  here,  so  let's  not  give  it  a  worse 
name  than  we  have  to,  for,  take  it  all  in  all,  it 
hasn't  harmed  us  thus  far. 

"On  across  the  Fraser,  to  the  south,  is  the 
North  Thompson,"  he  continued.  "Not  very 
much  known  by  any  except  a  few  of  our 
explorers.  It's  rather  rough-looking  in  there, 
isn't  it?  The  Albreda  Pass  makes  up  from 
the  Thompson,  over  yonder  where  you  see 
the  big  mountains  rising." 

"Is  that  where  we  go  to  get  to  the  Canoe 
River?"  said  John.  "It's  over  in  there  some- 
where." 

"No,  the  pass  to  the  Canoe  River  is  a 
wonderful  thing  in  its  way  for  this  high 
country.  Look  over  there  to  the  south  twenty 
miles  or  so,  and  you'll  see  Cranberry  Lake. 
The  McLennan  River  runs  out  of  that  to 
join  the  Fraser  right  here,  and  that  lake  is 
just  twenty-one  feet  above  the  level  of  this 
ground  where  we  stand!    You  could  pole  a 

165 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

boat  up  there  if  you  liked.  Just  over  Cran- 
berry Lake  it's  only  a  mile  to  where  the 
Canoe  River  bends  in  from  the  west.  That 
country  is  just  made  for  a  pass  from  the 
Fraser  to  the  Columbia,  and  to  my  mind  it's 
quite  as  interesting  as  any  of  these  great 
mountain  passes.  I  don't  know  of  any  divide 
as  low  as  this  between  two  waterways  as 
great  as  those  of  the  Fraser  and  the  Columbia. 
It's  only  two  thousand  five  hundred  and 
sixty-three  feet  above  sea-level  at  the  summit, 
and,  as  I  said,  is  only  twenty-one  feet  above 
the  Fraser." 

"We  must  have  come  down  quite  a  way,'* 
said  Rob,  "since  we  left  the  pass." 

"More  than  a  thousand  feet.  And  in  that 
thousand  feet  the  Fraser  has  grown  from  a 
trickle  to  a  great  river — in  fifty  miles  down- 
hill." 

"Well,  I  can  see,"  said  Rob,  looking 
about  the  pleasant  valley  which  lay  before 
them,  "that  this  is  a  good  place  for  a 
town." 

"Certainly,"  said  the  leader  of  their  party. 
"There'll  be  more  than  one  railroad  come 
through  here  across  the  Yellowhead  Pass,  very 
likely,  and  already  they  are  making  surveys 

i66 


AT  THE  T£TE  JAUNE  CACHE 

down  the  Fraser  and  Thompson  and  the  Canoe 
River.  Sometime  there  will  be  a  railroad 
down  the  Big  Bend  of  the  Columbia  below  us, 
and  it  will  have  a  branch  up  here,  as  sure  as 
we're  standing  here  now.  That  will  open  up 
all  this  coimtry  from  the  points  along  the 
Canadian  Pacific.  Then  all  these  names — the 
Thompson,  the  Fraser,  and  the  Canoe — will  be 
as  famiHar  to  the  traveling  public  as  the 
Missouri  and  the  Mississippi.  Yet  as  we 
stand  here  and  look  at  that  coimtry  it  is  a 
country  as  yet  unknown  and  unnamed!  I 
couldn't  map  it,  John,  myself,  for,  although 
that  country  south  of  us  is  one  of  the  most 
interesting  of  the  continent,  it  is  one  of  the 
least  known.  In  short,  that's  the  game  coim- 
try we've  been  heading  for,  and  I'll  promise 
you  a  grizzly  when  we  get  south  of  that  fiat 
divide." 

"Well,"  said  John,  "that  '11  satisfy  me,  all 
right.  We've  had  mighty  little  shooting  this 
far." 

"All  in  good  time,  all  in  good  time,  John, 
my  boy.  Maybe  we'll  show  you  as  good  sport 
as  you're  looking  for,  at  least,  what  with  rapids 
and  grizzly  bears. 

"But  now  we  must  go  on  and  find  L-eo,  if 
11  167 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

we  can.  I  sent  word  to  him  last  fall  for  him 
to  meet  me  here  at  the  Cache  this  month. 
We'll  see  what  luck  there  is  in  the  wilderness 
despatch." 

They  passed  on  rapidly  along  and  across 
the  sunlit  valley,  exulting  in  a  sense  of  free- 
dom in  getting  out  of  the  dark  and  gloomy 
mountains  into  an  open  cotmtry  where  they 
could  see  all  about  them.  Soon  they  saw 
smoke  rising  above  the  tops  of  the  low  trees, 
and  discovered  it  to  come  from  a  number  of 
tepees,  tall  and  conical,  built  with  long  poles, 
precisely  like  the  tepees  of  the  tribes  east  of 
the  Rockies. 

"That's  the  Shuswap  village,"  said  Uncle 
Dick.  "Leo  lives  there  with  his  people. 
Some  good  canoemen  and  hunters  in  there, 
too.  First,  let's  go  on  down  to  the  end  of  the 
trail.  I  want  you  to  see  the  actual  location 
of  the  old  Tete  Jaune  Cache." 

When  they  pulled  up  at  the  bank  of  the 
Fraser  it  was  on  an  open  flat  shut  in  by  low 
pines  and  poplars.  They  could  see  no  build- 
ing at  all;  only  a  few  poles  and  tent-stakes 
littered  the  ground. 

"This  is  the  Cache,"  said  Uncle  Dick. 

"It  isn't  so  much  of  a  place  as  I  expected," 
i68 


AT  THE  T£TE  JAUNE  CACHE 

said    John.      "Weren't     there     any     houses 
here?" 

"Over  there,  no  doubt,  were  some  log 
buildings  once  upon  a  time,"  said  Uncle  Dick. 
"No  doubt  the  old  trappers  built  their  cache 
well  and  strong,  for  plenty  of  good  furs  came 
through  here — marten  and  ermine  and  beaver 
and  otter — for  the  ladies  of  Great  Britain  to 
wear  nearly  a  hundred  years  ago.  But,  you 
see,  in  this  climate  logs  rot  rather  early,  and 
the  fires  have  run  all  through  here,  as  well. 
So  when  the  traders  left  these  old  trails 
Nature  soon  claimed  her  own  and  wiped  out 
all  traces  of  them.  The  cache  has  gone  the 
way  of  Jasper  House  and  Henry  House." 

"What  became  of  all  of  those  old  fellows?" 
inquired  Rob.  "We  only  hear  of  the  ones 
that  wrote  books." 

"They  are  gone  and  forgotten,"  said  Uncle 
Dick.  "No  one  knows  even  where  old  Tete 
Jaune  himself  — ^whether  he  was  Iroquois  or 
Swede  or  plain  Injun — lies  buried  to-day. 
There  is  no  record  of  where  he  laid  his  bones 
to  rest.  He  was  a  brave  man,  whoever  he 
was,  and  he  lived  in  a  great  age  of  adventure. 
Think  of  what  he  must  have  seen,  spending 
all  his  life  in  a  coimtry  like  this! 

169 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

"But  each  to  his  own  day,  I  suppose. 
Here  we  are  at  the  end  of  our  trail.  We'll 
have  to  cross  the  Fraser.  I  must  see  Leo, 
and  learn  what  he  has  done  about  the  boats — 
I've  told  him  to  build  a  couple  of  good  big 
boats — bateaux — to  take  us  down  the  Canoe 
River  over  yonder. 

"Here,  you  see,  we  leave  the  trail,"  he  con- 
tinued. "Yonder  is  the  Fraser  trail  down  to 
Fort  George.  Once  at  Fort  George,  you  know, 
you  can  take  an  automobile  down  the  old 
Ashcroft  trail  to  the  Canadian  Pacific." 

"Automobile!  What  do  you  know  about 
that!"  exclaimed  Jesse.  "I  didn't  know  we 
were  within  a  thousand  miles  of  one." 

' '  Yes,  within  two  hundred  miles.  It  doesn't 
look  much  like  it,  does  it?  You  see,  we*re 
living  in  rather  a  wonderful  age.  This  cotm- 
try  which  looks  so  wild  will  not  be  wild  ver^^ 
much  longer.  That's  the  only  reason  I've 
allowed  you  to  take  so  dangerous  a  journey 
as  this,  this  spring,  with  me.  Before  long 
all  these  things  will  be  common.  People  will 
come  out  here  on  the  cars  by  thousands,  and 
complain  about  the  sleepers  and  the  dining- 
car,  when  they  are  crossing  the  Rocky  Moim- 
tains,    very    likely.     One    day    they'll    have 

170 


AT  THE  T£TE  JAUNE  CACHE 

horseback  trails  through  here,  as  they  do 
aroimd  Banff,  and  I  suppose  even  old  Mount 
Robson  will  get  more  or  less  common  one 
time  or  another.  But  at  least  we've  seen  this 
coimtry  before  those  things  happened. 

"This  is  all  there  is  to  the  old  Cache. 
It's  mostly  a  memory,  but  history  has  written 
it  down  as  one  of  the  important  places  in 
the  Rockies.  John,  you  must  bring  your 
map  up  to  date  here,  at  the  Tete  Jaune 
Cache.  And  here  your  trail  bends  to  the 
south,  for  now  we're  going  to  follow  the 
Columbia,  and  not  the  Fraser,  after  this,  al- 
though my  railroad  goes  on  down  the  Fraser. 

"We'll  ride  over  now  to  the  village  and  see 
if  we  can  find  Leo,"  he  concluded,  as  he  turned 
his  horse  back  and  started  off  in  the  direction 
of  the  tepees. 


XVII 

LEO  THE  GRIZZLY  HUNTER 

As  our  party  of  adventurers  approached  the 
l\  Shuswap  village,  a  little  bit  removed 
from  the  bank  of  the  Fraser,  they  were  greeted 
with  a  chorus  of  barking  dogs.  A  number  of 
children  who  had  been  playing  in  the  grass 
fled  in  fright  into  the  tepees,  from  the  doors 
of  which,  none  the  less,  presently  appeared 
many  heads  alike  of  yoimg  and  old. 

As  the  horsemen  pulled  up  in  front  of  the 
central  tepee  there  came  out  to  meet  them  a 
slight  but  hardy  figure,  not  very  tall,  but  erect 
and  strong,  dressed  in  ordinary  western  garb, 
and  a  wide  hat  such  as  is  common  in  that  part 
of  the  country.  His  face  was  dark,  and  his 
hair,  worn  long,  was  braided,  and  fell  to  his 
shoulders  on  his  neck.  Grave  and  imsmiling 
like  most  of  his  people,  none  the  less  his 
eyes  wrinkled  a  little  bit  about  the  comers 
as  now  he  recognized  the  leader  of  the  band 

172 


LEO  THE  GRIZZLY  HUNTER 

of  horsemen.  Advancing,  he  extended  his 
hand  to  Uncle  Dick  and  greeted  him  very 
pleasantly. 

"How-do,"  said  he. 

The  party  now  dismounted,  and  their  leader 
turned  to  his  young  companions.  "This," 
said  he,  "is  Leo  Tennes,  the  man  I  told  you 
would  be  our  guide  down  the  Canoe  River. 
When  I  tell  you  that  he  has  run  the  Big 
Bend  of  the  Colimibia  more  than  once  I 
have  said  all  there  is  to  say  about  his  fitness." 

He  now  introduced  each  of  his  young  com- 
rades in  turn  to  Leo,  who  shook  hands  with 
them  gravely  and  with  dignity,  but  looking 
at  them  keenly  meantime.  He  was  evidently 
surprised  at  their  youth,  and  perhaps  none  too 
well  pleased,  although  obliged  to  admit  to 
himself  that  these  boys  already  had  undergone 
many  hardships  to  get  this  far  on  their  journey. 

Moise  himself,  usually  light-hearted  and 
talkative,  now  became  silent  and  dignified 
also  as  he  and  Leo  stood  looking  at  each  other. 
They  shook  hands,  and  each  spoke  to  the  other 
in  his  own  tongue.     Then  both  laughed. 

"Me  Shuswap!"  said  Leo. 

' '  Cree !"  rejoined  Aloise— ' '  North  Cree,  me. ' ' 

Then,  to  the  surprise  and  interest  of  the 
173 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

others,  these  two,  imable  to  converse  in  any 
common  tongue  except  English,  which  neither 
seemed  to  fancy  at  the  time,  began  to  employ 
the  singular  sign  language  of  the  savage 
tribes,  more  or  less  universally  known  through- 
out the  American  continent.  Moise  put  his 
two  forefingers  together  parallel  to  show  that 
he  and  Leo  were  friends.  He  pointed  back 
across  the  mountains,  and,  placing  his  head 
on  his  hands  and  raising  his  fingers  several 
times,  signified  that  he  had  come,  so  many 
sleeps,  to  this  place.  He  said  they  had  come 
horseback — straddling  his  left  forefinger  with 
two  fingers  on  his  right  hand.  Then  smil- 
ingly he  pointed  to  the  boys  and  to  his  own 
heart,  and  made  a  motion  as  though  trying 
to  break  a  stout  stick,  thus  saying  to  Leo 
that  their  hearts  were  strong. 

Leo  stood  looking  at  him  imsmiling,  and 
when  he  had  finished  threw  out  his  right 
hand  in  front  of  him,  palm  down,  by  which 
he  said:  "That  is  all  right.  It  is  good.  I 
am  satisfied." 

"Oh,  pshaw!  Moise,"  said  Uncle  Dick, 
laughing,  "you  and  Leo  can  both  talk  English 
a  great  deal  better  than  you  let  on.  1*11 
say,  Leo,  that  our  man  Moise  is  as  good  in  a 

174 


LEO  THE  GRIZZLY  HUNTER 

boat  as  you  are  yourself,  so  you  need  not  be 
uneasy.  As  for  the  rest  of  us,  we'll  under- 
take to  keep  up  our  end.  When  will  you  be 
ready  to  start?" 

"Maybe-so  to-night,  maybe-so  to-morrow," 
said  Leo. 

"And  can  you  take  care  of  our  horses  for 
us  as  I  wrote  you  last  fall?" 

"Yes.  Horse  all  right  here.  You  get  'um 
next  year  all  right." 

"Very  well,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "We'll  just 
unpack  and  turn  them  over  right  here." 

The  boys  were  very  regretful  at  saying 
good-by  to  their  faithful  animals,  especially 
the  saddle  -  ponies  which  had  carried  them 
safely  so  far.  They  stood  looking  at  them 
rather  ruefully. 

"Never  mind,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "Leo 
has  got  some  hay  for  them,  and  they  will 
winter  well  here.  I'll  warrant  you  they'll 
be  very  glad  to  trade  the  trail  for  this  pleasant 
valley  here,  where  they  can  live  in  idleness 
and  get  fat  for  a  year. 

"Now,  about  the  boat,  Leo,"  he  resumed. 

"All  right.  Got  two  boats,"  said  Leo.  "I 
make  'um."  And  he  led  the  way  to  an  open 
spot  in   the  bushes  where  there  stood   two 

175 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

newly  completed  boats,  flat  -  bottomed  and 
double  -  ended,  with  high  sides,  the  material 
all  made  of  whip -sawed  lumber  gotten  out 
by  Leo  and  his  people. 

Uncle  Dick  walked  up  to  the  boats  and 
looked  them  over  carefully.  "Pretty  heavy, 
Leo,"  said  he,  "but  they'll  do  to  rim  downhill 
all  the  way." 

"She's  good  boat,"  said  Leo.  "Need  'imi 
strong." 

"Yes,  about  twenty- two  feet  long  each  one 
— that  will  carry  us  and  our  supplies  nicely. 
You  and  your  man  will  take  one  boat,  and 
Moise  and  I  the  other.  I  think  I'll  put  the 
boys  in  our  boat.  What  man  are  you  going 
to  get  to  go  with  you,  Leo?" 

"My  cousin  George;  he's  good  man.  We 
make  hunt  last  spring  down  the  Canoe 
River." 

"What  were  you  after?" 

"After  grizzlum  bear." 

"Did  you  get  one?" 

"No,  not  get  one." 

"Not  one?  And  I  thought  that  was  a  good 
bear  country!" 

"Not  get  one''  said  Leo.     "Get  sixteen." 

"Sixteen!  That's  something  different. 
176 


LEO  THE  GRIZZLY  HUNTER 

That  looks  as  though  we  might  expect  some 
bears  ourselves  this  spring." 

"All  right,  plenty  grizzlum.  Maybe-so 
forty,  fifty  mile." 

"What  does  he  think  about  the  running 
on  the  Canoe  River,  Uncle  Dick?"  inquired 
Rob.     "Is  it  going  to  be  bad  water?" 

"Not  too  bad  water,"  said  Leo,  turning 
to  Rob.  "Snow  not  too  much  melt  yet  on 
big  hills.     We  take  wagon  first." 

"A  wagon!"  exclaimed  John.  "I  didn't  know 
there  was  a  wagon  within  a  thousand  miles." 

"My  cousin  other  side  river,"  said  Leo, 
proudly,  "got  wagon.  Bring  'um  wagon  two 
hunder'  miles  from  Fort  George  on  canoe. 
His  horses  heap  kick  wagon  sometam,  but 
bimeby  all  right.  We  get  work  on  railroad 
bimeby." 

Rob  and  John  stood  looking  at  each  other 
somewhat  puzzled.  "Well,"  said  John,  "I 
thought  we  were  coming  to  a  wild  country, 
but  it  looks  as  though  everybody  here  was 
getting  ready  to  be  civilized  as  fast  as  possible. 
But  even  if  we  have  a  wagon,  where  are  we 
going  with  it?" 

"There's  a  perfectly  good  trail  up  to  Cran- 
berry Lake,  the  simimit  of  this  divide,  as  I 

177 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

told  you,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "I  think  Leo 
would  rather  take  one  of  the  boats  by  wagon. 
The  rest  of  us  can  push  the  other  boat  up 
the  McLennan,  part  way  at  least." 

"Good  trail,"  said  Leo.  "Suppose  you'll 
like,  we  got  horse  trail  down  Canoe  River 
forty  mile  now.  Many  people  come  now.  I 
been  to  Revelstruck  [Revelstoke]  three  tam, 
me  and  my  cousin  George — part  way  horse, 
part  way  boat.  Bimeby  go  on  railroad. 
That's  why  my  cousin  buy  his  wagon — work 
on  railroad  and  get  money  for  ticket  to 
Revelstruck." 

"Well,  what  do  you  know  about  that, 
Rob?"  said  John.  "This  coimtry  certainly 
is  full  of  enterprise.  What  I  don't  under- 
stand is,  how  they  got  a  wagon  up  the  Fraser 
River  in  a  canoe." 

After  a  time  Leo  led  them  down  to  the 
bank  of  the  Fraser  and  showed  them  several 
of  the  long,  dug-out  canoes  of  the  Shuswap, 
with  which  these  people  have  navigated  that 
wild  river  for  many  years.  He  explained 
how,  by  lashing  two  canoes  together,  they 
could  carry  quite  a  load  without  danger  of 
capsizing;  and  he  explained  the  laborious 
process  of  poling  such  a  craft  up  this  rapid 

178 


LEO  THE  GRIZZLY  HUNTER 

river.  The  boys  listened  to  all  these  things 
in  wonder  and  admiration,  feeling  that  cer- 
tainly they  were  in  a  new  and  singular 
country  after  all.  Once  all  the  trade  of  the 
Pacific  coast  had  passed  this  very  spot. 

"Well  now,  Leo,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "you 
go  get  your  cousin  George,  and  let  us  begin  to 
make  plans  to  start  out.    We've  got  to  hurry." 

"Oh,  of  course  we've  got  to  hurry!"  said 
John,  laughing.  "I  never  saw  you  when  you 
were  not  in  a  hurry,  Uncle  Dick." 

"S'pose  we  put  boat  on  Canoe  River  or 
Colimiby  River,"  said  Leo,  smiling,  "she'll  go 
plenty  hurry,  fast  enough." 

By  and  by  he  brought  another  Indian  of  his 
own  age,  even  darker  in  color  and  more  taciturn. 

"This  George,"  said  he,  "my  cousin.  I 
am  mos'  bes'  grizzlum  hunter  at  Tete  Jaune. 
George  is  mos'  bes'  man  on  boat." 

"And  Moise  is  the  most  best  cook,"  said 
Uncle  Dick,  laughing.  "Well,  it  looks  as 
though  we'd  get  along  all  right.  But,  since 
you  accuse  me  of  always  being  in  too  big  a 
hurry,  I'll  agree  to  camp  here  for  the  night. 
Boys,  you  may  unroll  the  packs.  Leo,  you 
may  get  us  that  mosquito-tent  I  left  with 
you  last  year." 


XVIII 

SOUTHWARD   BOUND 

THE  boys  all  had  a  pleasant  time  visiting 
around  the  Indian  village,  and  enjoyed, 
moreover,  the  rest  after  their  long  ride  on  the 
trail.  On  the  morning  of  their  start  from  T6te 
Jaune  Cache  they  went  to  look  once  more  at 
the  boats  which  were  now  to  make  their  means 
of  transportation. 

"I  think  they'll  be  all  right,"  said  Rob. 
"They're  heavier  than  the  ones  we  had  on  the 
Peace  River,  and  the  sides  are  higher.  You 
could  put  a  ton  in  one  of  these  boats  and 
she'd  ride  pretty  safe  in  rather  rough  water, 
I  should  say." 

"I'll  bet  we'll  think  they  weigh  a  ton  when 
we  try  to  carry  them  down  to  the  river," 
said  Jesse.  "But  I  suppose  there'll  be  plenty 
of  men  to  help  do  that." 

"Now,  we'll  be  leaving  this  place  pretty 
soon,"  continued  John.     "I  hate  to  go  away 

i8o 


SOUTHWARD   BOUND 

and  leave  my  pony,  Jim.  This  morning  he 
came  up  and  rubbed  his  nose  on  my  arm  as  if 
he  was  trying  to  say  something." 

"He'd  just  as  well  say  good -by,"  smiled 
Rob,  "for,  big  as  our  boats  are,  we  couldn't 
carry  a  pack-train  along  in  them,  and  I  think 
the  swimming  will  be  pretty  rough  over 
yonder." 

"These  are  pretty  heavy  paddles,"  said 
Jesse,  picking  up  one  of  the  rough  contri- 
vances Leo  had  made.  "They  look  more  like 
sweeps.  But  they're  not  oars,  for  I  don't  see 
any  thole-pins." 

"It  '11  be  all  paddling  and  all  down-stream," 
said  Rob.  "You  couldn't  use  oars,  and  the 
paddles  have  to  be  very  strong  to  handle  boats 
as  heavy  as  these.  You  just  claw  and  pole 
and  pull  with  these  paddles,  and  use  them  more 
to  guide  than  to  get  up  motion  for  the  boat." 

"How  far  do  we  go  on  the  Canoe  River?" 
inquired  Jesse  of  Rob.  "You'll  have  to  be 
making  your  map  now,  John,  you  know." 

"Leo  called  it  a  himdred  and  fifty  miles 
from  the  summit  to  the  Columbia  River," 
repHed  Rob,  "but  Uncle  Dick  thought  it  was 
not   over   eighty   or   a   hundred   miles   in   a 

straight  line." 

i8i 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

"Besides,  we've  got  to  go  down  the  Colum- 
bia River  a  hundred  miles  or  so,"  added  John, 
drawing  out  his  map-paper.  "I'm  going  to 
lay  out  the  courses  each  day." 

"It  won't  take  long  to  nm  that  far  in  a 
boat,"  said  Rob.  "And  I  only  hope  Uncle 
Dick  won't  get  in  too  big  a  hurry,  although 
I  suppose  he  knows  best  about  this  high  water 
which  he  seems  to  dread  so  much  all  the  time. 
Leo  told  me  that  about  the  worst  thing  on 
the  Canoe  River  was  log-jams — driftwood,  I 
mean." 

The  boys  now  bent  over  John's  map  on 
which  he  was  beginning  to  trace  some  pre- 
liminary lines. 

"Yonder  to  the  left  and  south,  somewhere, 
Rob,  is  the  Athabasca  Pass,  which  the  traders 
all  used  who  used  the  Columbia  River  instead 
of  the  Fraser.  Somewhere  on  our  way  south 
we'll  cut  their  trail.  It  came  down  some  of 
these  streams  on  the  left.  I  don't  know 
whether  they  came  up  the  Canoe  River  or 
not,  but  not  regularly,  I'm  sure.  On  Thomp- 
son's map  you'll  see  another  stream  running 
south  almost  parallel  to  the  Canoe — that's 
the  Wood  River.  They  didn't  use  that  very 
much,  from  all  I  can  learn,  and  that  place  on 


SOUTHWARD   BOUND 

the  Columbia  called  the  Boat  Encampment 
was  a  sort  of  a  round-up  place  for  all  those 
who  crossed  the  Athabasca  Pass.  Just  to 
think,  we're  going  the  same  trail  on  the  big 
river  traveled  a  hundred  years  ago  by  David 
Thompson  and  Sir  George  Simpson,  and 
Doctor  Laughlin,  of  old  Fort  Vancouver,  and 
all  those  old  chaps!" 

"I  wonder  what  kind  of  boats  they  had  in 
those  times,"  remarked  Jesse. 

"They  seem  to  have  left  no  record  about 
these  most  interesting  details  in  their  busi- 
ness. I  suppose,  however,  they  must  have 
had  log  canoes  a  good  deal  like  these  Indians 
use  on  the  Fraser.  I  don't  think  they  used 
birch-bark ;  and  if  they  had  boats  made  out  of 
sawed  boards,  I  can't  find  any  mention  of  it." 

While  they  were  standing  talking  thus,  and 
working  on  John's  map,  they  were  approached 
by  the  leader  of  the  party  with  the  men  who 
were  to  accompany  them,  and  one  or  two 
other  Indians  of  the  village. 

"All  ready  now,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "Here, 
you  men,  carry  this  boat  down  to  the  river- 
bank.  The  rest  of  you  get  busy  with  the 
packs." 

"There  she  goes,  the  old  Fraser,"  said  John, 
12  183 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

as  they  gathered  at  the  river-bank.  "It's  a 
good  rifle-shot  across  her  here,  and  she's  only- 
fifty  miles  long.  It  looks  as  though  we'd 
have  our  own  troubles  getting  across,  too." 

But  Leo  and  George,  well  used  to  naviga- 
tion on  these  swift  waters,  took  the  first  boat 
across,  loaded,  without  any  difficulty,  stand- 
ing up  and  paddling  vigorously,  and  making 
a  fairly  straight  passage  across  the  rapid 
stream,  although  they  landed  far  below  their 
starting-point.  With  no  serious  difficulty 
the  entire  party  was  thus  transported,  and 
soon  the  heavier  of  the  two  boats,  with  most 
of  the  camp  supplies,  was  loaded  on  the  new 
red  wagon  of  Leo's  other  cousin,  who  now 
stood  waiting  for  them,  having  his  own 
troubles  with  a  pair  of  fractious  young 
cayuses  that  he  had  managed  to  hitch  to  the 
wagon. 

With  this  last  addition  to  their  party 
perched  on  top,  and  Leo  and  George  walking 
alongside,  the  procession  started  off  up  the 
trail  across  the  valley,  headed  for  the  low 
divide  which  lay  beyond.  The  remaining 
boat,  manned  by  Moise  and  Uncle  Dick  at 
bow  and  stem,  was  launched  on  the  little 
river  which  came  down  from  Cranberry  Lake. 

184 


SOUTHWARD   BOUND 

The  boys,  rifles  in  hand,  and  Hght  packs  on 
their  shoulders,  trudged  along  on  foot,  cutting 
off  bends  and  meeting  the  boat  every  once 
in  a  while.  They  had  an  early  start  after  all, 
and,  the  wagon  doubling  back  after  depositing 
its  load  late  in  the  afternoon  to  bring  on  the 
second  boat,  they  all  made  camp  on  the 
summit  not  far  from  the  lake  that  evening. 


XIX 

ON  THE  CANOE  RIVER 

JOHN"  said  Uncle  Dick,  before  they 
broke  camp  the  following  morning,  "you'll 
have  some  work  to  do  now  with  your  map. 
This  pass  is  not  as  high  as  the  Yellowhead 
Pass,  but  in  a  way  it's  almost  as  interesting  be- 
cause it  is  the  divide  between  the  Fraser  and 
the  Colimibia  valleys;  so  you  must  get  it  on 
the  map. 

"Yonder  is  the  river  which  old  Simon 
Fraser  thought  was  the  Columbia,  and  the 
river  which  first  took  Sir  Alexander  Mac- 
kenzie to  the  Pacific.  South  of  us  runs  the 
great  Columbia,  bending  up  as  far  as  it  can 
to  reach  this  very  spot.  South  to  the  Colum- 
bia nm  these  two  rivers,  the  Canoe  and  the 
Wood.  Over  yonder  is  the  Albreda  Pass,  by 
which  you  reach  the  Thompson — glaciers 
enough  there  to  suit  any  one.  And  over  in 
that  way,  too,  rises  the  Canoe  River,  which 

i86 


ON  THE  CANOE   RIVER 

runs  conveniently  right  toward  us  here,  within 
a  mile  of  our  lake,  inviting  us  to  take  its  path- 
way to  the  Columbia. 

"Over  that  way  on  the  left,  as  you  know, 
lie  the  Rockies,  and  outside  of  two  or  three 
passes  between  the  Kicking  Horse  Pass  and 
the  Yellowhead  Pass  no  one  really  knows 
much  about  them.  You  see,  we've  quite  a 
little  world  of  our  own  in  here.  The  white 
men  are  just  beginning  to  come  into  this 
valley." 

"Where  are  we  going  to  hunt  the  grizzlies, 
Leo?"  inquired  Rob,  after  a  time,  as  they 
busied  themselves  making  ready  for  the  port- 
age with  the  canoe. 

Leo  rose  and  pointed  his  hand  first  south, 
and  then  to  the  west  and  south. 

"  Little  creek  come  in  from  high  moimtain," 
said  he.    "All  valleys  deep,  plenty  slides." 

"Slides ?  What  does  he  mean ,  Uncle  Dick ? ' ' 
inquired  John. 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you.  Leo  hunts  bear  here 
in  about  the  only  practical  way,  which  is  to 
say,  on  the  slides  which  the  avalanches  have 
torn  down  the  sides  of  the  mountains.  You 
see,  all  these  mountainsides  are  covered  with 
enormous  forest  growth,  so  dense  that  you 

187 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

could  not  find  anything  in  them,  for  game  will 
hear  or  see  you  before  you  come  up  with  it. 
These  forests  high  up  on  the  mountains  make 
the  real  home  of  the  grizzly.  In  the  spring, 
however,  the  first  thing  a  grizzly  does  is  to 
himt  out  some  open  cotmtry  where  he  can  find 
grass,  or  roots,  or  maybe  mice  or  gophers — 
almost  anything  to  eat.  Besides,  he  likes  to 
look  around  over  the  cotmtry,  just  like  a 
white  goat,  apparently.  So  he  will  pick  out 
a  sort  of  feeding  -  ground  or  loafing  -  ground 
right  in  one  of  these  slides — a  place  where  the 
snow-slips  have  carried  away  the  trees  and 
rocks  perhaps  many  years  earlier  and  re- 
peated it  from  year  to  year. 

"On  these  slides  you  will  find  grass  and  little 
bushes.  As  this  is  the  place  where  the  bears 
are  most  apt  to  be,  and  as  you  could  not  see 
them  anyhow  if  they  were  anywhere  else, 
that  is  where  the  himters  look  for  them.  Late 
in  the  afternoon  is  the  best  time  to  find  a 
grizzly  on  a  slide.  You  see,  his  fur  is  very 
hot  for  him,  and  he  doesn't  like  the  open  sim, 
and  stays  in  until  the  cooler  hours  of  the  day. 
Evidently  Leo  has  found  some  creeks  down 
below  in  the  Canoe  Valley  where  the  himters 
have  not  yet  got  in,  and  that  is  why  he  made 


ON  THE  CANOE   RIVER 

such  a  big  hunt  last  spring.  Indeed,  there 
are  a  number  of  creeks  which  come  into  the 
Colimibia  from  the  west  where  almost  no 
hunting  has  ever  been  done,  and  where,  very 
likely,  one  could  make  a  good  bear-hunt  any 
time  this  month." 

The  boys  all  agreed  that  the  prospects  of 
getting  a  grizzly  apiece  seemed  very  good 
indeed,  and  so  set  to  work  with  much  en- 
thusiasm in  the  task  of  re-embarking,  on  the 
rapid  waters  of  the  Canoe  River,  here  a  small 
and  raging  stream,  but  with  water  sufficient 
to  carry  down  the  two  bateaux.  Their  man 
with  the  wagon,  without  saying  good-by, 
turned  and  went  back  to  his  village  on  the 
banks  of  the  Fraser.  Thus  in  the  course  of 
a  day,  the  young  travelers  found  themselves 
in  an  entirely  different  country,  bound  upon 
a  different  route,  and  with  a  wholly  different 
means  of  transport.  The  keen  delight  of  this 
exciting  form  of  travel  took  hold  upon  them, 
and  Uncle  Dick  and  Moise,  who  handled  the 
rear  boat,  in  which  all  the  boys  were  pas- 
sengers, had  all  they  could  do  to  keep  them 
still  and  to  restrain  their  wish  to  help  do 
some  of  the  paddling. 

Leo  and  his  cousin  George,  as  has  been 
189 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

stated,  took  the  lead  in  the  boat  which  the  par- 
ty christened  the  Lizzie  W.,  in  honor  of  Jesse's 
mother.  The  rear  boat  they  called  the  Bronco, 
because  of  her  antics  in  some  of  the  fast  rapids 
which  from  time  to  time  they  encountered. 

For  a  time  they  made  none  too  rapid  prog- 
ress on  their  stream,  which,  though  deep 
enough,  was  more  or  less  clogged  with  sweepers 
and  driftwood  in  some  of  the  bends.  Uncle 
Dick  gave  Leo  orders  not  to  go  more  than 
one  bend  ahead,  so  that  in  case  of  accident 
the  boats  would  be  in  touch  with  each  other. 
Thus  very  often  the  rear  boat  ran  up  on  the 
forward  one,  lying  inshore,  and  held  ready  to 
line  down  some  bad  chute  of  the  stream. 

In  this  work  all  bore  a  hand.  The  lines  to 
be  used  were  made  of  rawhide,  which  would 
have  been  slippery  except  for  the  large  knots 
tied  every  foot  or  so  to  give  a  good  handhold. 
Of  course,  in  all  this,  as  much  in  as  out  of 
the  water,  pretty  much  every  one  in  the  party 
got  soaked  to  the  skin,  but  this  was  accepted 
as  part  of  the  day's  work,  and  they  all  went 
steadily  on  down  the  stream,  putting  mile 
after  mile  behind  them,  and  opening  up  at 
every  bend  additional  vistas  of  splendid 
mountain  prospects. 

190 


ON  THE  CANOE   RIVER 

At  noon  they  paused  to  boil  the  tea-kettle, 
but  made  only  a  short  stop.  So  steady  had 
been  their  journey  that  when  they  pitched 
camp  for  the  night  on  a  little  beach  they 
estimated  that  their  progress  had  been  more 
than  that  of  a  pack-train  in  a  good  day's 
travel.  That  night  they  had  for  supper  some 
fresh  grouse,  or  "fool-hens,"  which  fell  to 
Jesse's  rifle  out  of  a  covey  which  perched  in 
the  bushes  not  far  from  their  camp-site. 
They  passed  a  very  jovial  night  in  this  camp, 
well  content  alike  with  their  advance  and 
with  the  prospects  which  now  they  felt  lay 
before  them. 


XX 

CARIBOU   IN   CAMP 

THIS  weather,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  walking 
toward  an  open  place  in  the  trees  and 
looking  up  at  the  bright  sky  above,  "is 
entirely  too  fine  to  suit  me.  This  morning 
looks  as  though  we  would  have  a  warm  day, 
and  that  means  high  water.  The  rock  walls 
in  the  canons  below  here  don't  stretch,  and 
a  foot  of  water  on  a  flat  like  this  may  mean 
twenty  feet  rise  in  a  canon.  And  that  is 
where  this  little  band  of  travelers  will  all  get 
out  and  walk." 

Leo,  who  had  been  examining  his  boat, 
which  he  had  drawn  up  on  the  beach  to  dr^^ 
overnight,  now  asked  a  little  time  to  calk 
a  leak  which  he  had  discovered.  Meantime 
the  boys  concluded  it  might  be  a  good  plan 
to  walk  out  a  little  way  into  an  open  place 
and  try  the  sights  of  their  rifles,  which  they 
knew  would  need  to  be  exactly  right  if  they 

192 


CARIBOU  IN  CAMP 

were  to  engage  in  such  dangerous  sport  as 
that  of  hunting  the  grizzly  bear. 

"S'pose  you  see  some  small  little  bear," 
said  Moise,  as  they  started  out,  "you  shoot 
'um.  Shoot  'um  caribou  too,  s'pose  you  see 
one — law  says  traveler  can  kil  meat." 

"Well,  v/e're  not  apt  to  see  one,"  said 
John,  "for  we'd  scare  them  when  we  began 
to  shoot  our  rifles." 

They  had  advanced  only  a  few  htmdred 
yards  from  the  camp  when  they  found  an 
open  place  in  front  of  the  trees  which  offered 
a  good  opportunity  for  a  rifle-range  of  two 
hundred  yards. 

"I'm  not  going  to  fool  with  my  sights," 
said  Jesse,  "because  my  gun  shot  all  right 
last  night  on  the  grouse.  You  fellows  go 
ahead." 

Rob  and  John  proceeded  with  the  work 
of  targeting  their  rifles,  firing  perhaps  a  dozen 
shots  apiece  in  all  before  they  turned  to 
walk  back  to  the  camp.  As  they  did  so  Rob, 
happening  to  look  back  of  them,  suddenly 
halted  them  with  a  low  word.  "What's 
that?"  said  he. 

An  animal  large  as  a  two-year-old  heifer 
and  wearing  short  stubs  of  horns  was  trotting 

193 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

toward  them  steadily,  as  though  bound  to 
come  directly  up  to  them.  So  far  from  being 
alarmed  by  the  firing,  it  seemed  to  have  been 
attracted  by  it,  and  really  it  was  only  curiosity 
which  brought  it  up  thus  to  its  most  dangerous 
enemy.  It  had  never  heard  a  rifle  or  seen  a 
human  being  before  in  all  its  life. 

"Caribou!"  said  Rob  in  a  low  tone  of 
voice.  Even  as  he  spoke  John's  rifle  rang 
out,  and  the  other  two  followed  promptly. 
The  stupid  beast,  now  within  sixty  yards  of 
them,  fell  dead  in  less  time  than  it  would 
take  to  tell  of  the  incident.  A  moment  later 
the  boys  stood  at  its  side,  excitedly  talking 
together. 

"Go  back  to  camp,  Jesse,"  said  Rob,  at 
length,  "and  tell  Moise  to  come  out.  John 
and  I  will  stay  and  begin  to  skin  out  the  meat." 

Moise,  when  he  came  out  from  camp,  was 
very  much  pleased  with  the  results  of  this 
impromptu  hunt.  "Plenty  fat  meat  now," 
said  he.  "That's  nice  young  caribou,  heem." 
He  fell  rapidly  to  work  in  his  experienced 
fashion,  and  in  a  short  time  he  and  George 
had  packed  the  meat  down  to  the  camp  and 
loaded  it  in  the  two  boats,  both  of  which  were 
now  ready  for  the  departure. 

194 


CARIBOU  IN  CAMP 

"That's  the  most  obliging  caribou  I  ever 
heard  of,"  said  Rob,  "to  walk  right  into  our 
camp  that  way.  I've  read  about  buffalo 
hunters  in  the  old  times  running  a  buffalo 
almost  into  camp  before  they  killed  it,  to 
save  trouble  in  packing  the  meat.  But  they'd 
have  to  do  pretty  well  if  they  beat  this  caribou 
business  of  ours." 

Leo  stood  looking  at  the  young  hunters 
with  considerable  surprise,  for  he  had  been 
very  skeptical  of  their  ability  to  kill  any 
game,  and  extremely  distrustful  of  their  having 
anything  to  do  with  grizzly  hunting. 

"Plenty  caribou  this  valley,"  said  he;  "big 
black-face  caribou.  Heem  plenty  fool,  too. 
Caribou  he  don't  bite.  But  s'pose  you'll  see 
grizzlum  bear,  you  better  look  out — then 
maybe  you  get  some  scares.  S'pose  you  get 
some  scares,  you  better  leave  grizzlum  alone." 

"Never  mind,  Leo,"  said  Uncle  Dick, 
laughing  at  him,  "let's  not  worr>^  about  that 
yet  a  while.     First  find  your  grizzly." 

"Find  plenty  grizzlum  to-morrow,  one  day, 
two  day,"  said  Leo.     "Not  far  now." 

They  determined  to  make  a  good  long  run 
that  day,  and  indeed  the  stage  of  water  aided 
them  in  that  purpose;    but  Uncle  Dick,  as 

I9S 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

leader  of  the  party,  found  that  Leo  and 
George  had  very  definite  ideas  of  their  own 
as  to  what  constituted  a  day's  work.  When 
noon  came — although  neither  of  them  had 
a  watch — they  went  ashore  at  a  beach  and 
signified  their  intention  of  resting  one  hour, 
quite  as  though  they  were  members  of  a  labor- 
union  in  some  city;  so  nothing  would  do  but 
the  kettle  must  be  boiled  and  a  good  rest 
taken. 

"How'U  you  and  George  get  back  up  this 
stream,  Leo?"  inquired  Rob,  seating  himself 
by  the  Indians  as  they  lolled  on  the  sand. 

"That  easy,"  said  Leo.  "We  go  Revel- 
struck  two,  three  tam,  my  cousin  and  me. 
Come  up  Columby  those  wind  behind  us  all 
right.  Sometam  pull  boat  on  rope,  mos'  tam 
pole.  Sometam  pull  'imi  up  on  bush,  little 
bit  at  time.  But  when  we  come  on  Columby, 
up  Canoe,  we  get  horse  fifty  miles  this  side 
Cranberry  Lake  and  go  out  on  trail.  It 
most  easy  to  go  down  and  not  come  up." 

"Well,  I  should  say  so,"  said  Rob,  "and  on 
the  whole  I'm  glad  we  don't  have  to  come 
back  at  all." 

"We  not  come  back  this  way,"  said  Leo, 
calmly  lighting  his  pipe. 

196 


CARIBOU  IN  CAMP 

"But  I  thought  you  just  said  that  you  did." 

"Not  this  tarn.  My  cousin  and  me  we  go 
on  railroad  from  Revelstruck  west  to  Ash- 
croft.  Plenty  choo-choo  wagon  Ashcroft  near 
Fort  George.  At  Fort  George  two,  three 
choo-choo  boat  nowadays.  We  get  on  choo- 
choo  boat  and  go  up  to  Tete  Jaune.  That's 
more  easy.  Bime-by  railroad,  then  heap 
more  easy." 

"Well,  will  you  listen  to  that!"  said  John, 
as  Leo  concluded.  "Automobiles  and  power- 
boats up  in  this  coimtry,  and  a  railroad 
coming  in  a  couple  of  years!  It  looks  to  me 
as  though  we'd  have  to  go  to  the  north  pole 
next  time,  if  we  get  anywhere  worth  while." 

"Bime-by  grizzlum,"  said  Leo,  rising  after 
a  while  and  tightening  his  belt,  as  he  walked 
down  to  the  boats.  "I  know  two,  three  good 
place.    We  camp  this  night,  make  hunt  there. ' ' 


XXI 

THE  FIRST   BEAR  CAMP 

AS  they  advanced  to  the  southward  the 
/\  boys  all  felt  that  they  were,  in  spite  of  all 
these  threats  of  an  advancing  civilization,  at 
last  in  the  wilderness  itself.  Where  the 
stream  swept  in  close  to  the  mountain  range 
they  could  see  dense,  heavy  forest,  presenting 
an  unbroken  cover  almost  to  the  tops  of  the 
peaks  themselves.  At  times  when  obliged  to 
leave  the  bed  of  the  stream  for  a  little  while, 
when  the  men  lined  down  the  boat  on  a  bad 
passage,  the  boys  would  find  themselves  con- 
fronted, even  when  going  a  himdred  yards  or 
so,  with  a  forest  growth  whose  like  they  had 
never  seen.  Giant  firs  whose  trunks  were 
six  feet  or  more  in  diameter  were  everywhere. 
Sometimes  they  would  find  one  of  these 
giants  fallen  in  the  woods,  crashing  down 
through  the  other  trees,  even  great  trunks 
spanning  little  ravines  or  gulHes  as  bridges. 
They  were  willing  enough  to  make  their 


THE   FIRST   BEAR  CAMP 

path  along  any  of  these  trunks  which  lay  in 
their  way,  for  below  them  lay  the  icy  floor  of 
the  forest,  covered  with  wet  moss,  or  with 
slush  and  snow,  since  the  stin  hardly  ever 
shone  fair  upon  the  ground  in  these  heavy 
forests.  Dense  alders  and  thickets  of  devil's- 
club  also  opposed  them,  so  that  they  were  at 
a  loss  to  see  how  any  one  could  make  his  way 
through  such  a  country  as  this,  and  were  glad 
enough  to  reach  even  the  inhospitable  path- 
way of  their  mountain  river  and  to  take  to 
the  boats  again. 

Unquestionably  they  made  a  long  run  that 
afternoon,  for  Leo  evidently  was  in  a  hurry 
to  reach  some  certain  point.  Late  as  the  sun 
sank  in  that  northern  latitude,  it  was  almost 
dark  when  at  length  they  pulled  inshore  on 
an  open  beach  at  the  month  of  the  brawling 
stream  which  came  down  from  the  west  out 
of  a  deep  gorge  lined  with  the  ancient  and 
impenetrable  forest  growth. 

"I  wish  we  had  some  fish  to  eat,"  said 
John.  "Couldn't  we  catch  any  in  this  creek, 
or  in  the  river?" 

"No  catch  'um  trout,"  said  Leo.  "Too 
much  ice  and  snow  in  water.  Some  trout  in 
Columby.    In  summer  salmon  come." 

13  199 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

"And  in  spring  mosquito  come,"  said  Jesse, 
slapping  at  his  face.  "I  think  we'd  better 
put  up  our  new  mosquito  -  tents  from  this 
time  on." 

"All  right,"  said  John.  "That's  a  good 
idea.  We  haven't  needed  them  very  much 
yet,  but  it  looks  as  though  the  warm  weather 
was  going  to  hatch  out  a  lot  of  fly." 

They  now  proceeded  to  put  up  on  the 
beach  one  of  the  tents  which  had  earlier  been 
brought  along  to  the  Cache  by  their  imcle 
from  Seattle,  where  much  of  the  Alaskan  out- 
fitting is  done.  This  tent  was  a  rather  curious 
affair,  but  effective  in  its  way.  It  had  about 
a  three-foot  wall,  and  the  roof  extended  for 
two  inches  beyond  the  sides,  as  well  as  the 
two  inches  above  the  top,  or  ridge,  where  a 
number  of  grommets  allowed  the  passage  of  a 
rope  for  a  ridge-pole.  The  boys  pitched  the 
tent  by  means  of  a  ridge-pole  above  the  tent, 
supported  by  crotched  poles  at  each  end,  and 
lashed  the  top  firmly  to  the  ridge-pole. 

The  interior  of  the  tent  was  like  a  box,  for 
the  floor  was  sewed  to  the  bottom  of  the  walls 
all  around  and  the  front  end  of  the  tent  did 
not  open  at  all.  Instead  it  had  a  round  hole 
large  enough  to  admit  a  man's  body,  and  to 

200 


THE   FIRST  BEAR  CAMP 

the  edges  of  this  hole  was  sewed  a  long  sleeve, 
or  funnel,  of  light  drilling,  with  an  opening 
just  large  enough  to  let  a  man  crawl  through 
it  to  the  interior  of  the  tent.  Once  inside,  he 
could,  as  John  explained  it,  pull  the  hole  in 
after  him  and  then  tie  a  knot  in  the  hole. 
The  end  of  the  sleeve,  or  funnel,  was  tied 
tight  after  the  occupant  of  the  tent  had 
gotten  inside. 

In  order  to  secure  ventilation,  ample  win- 
dows, covered  with  bobbinet,  or  cheese-cloth, 
were  provided  in  each  end  and  in  the  sides, 
each  with  a  little  curtain  of  canvas  which 
could  be  tied  down  in  case  of  rain.  Their 
engineer  imcle,  who  had  aided  in  the  per- 
fection of  this  device,  declared  it  to  be  the 
only  thing  which  made  engineering  possible  in 
this  far  northern  country,  which  was  im- 
passable in  the  winter-time,  and  intolerable 
in  the  summer-time  for  the  man  who  has  no 
defense  against  the  insect  pests  which  make 
life  so  wretched  for  the  inexperienced  traveler 
in  the  north. 

Leo  looked  with  considerable  interest  at 
this  arrangement  after  the  boys  had  crawled 
in  and  made  their  beds  inside  ready  for  the 
night's  rest.    The  boys  offered  him  the  use  of 

201 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

their  old  tent,  if  he  hked,  but  he  seemed  a 
trifle  contemptuous  about  it. 

"Fly  no  hurt  Injim,"  said  he.  And  indeed 
he,  George,  and  Moise  all  slept  in  the  open  by- 
preference,  with  only  their  blankets  drawn 
over  their  heads  to  protect  them  against  the 
onslaughts  of  the  mosquitoes. 

They  were  now  at  their  first  hunting- 
ground,  and  our  young  friends  were  keen 
enough  to  be  about  the  business  soon  after 
the  sun  had  begun  to  warm  up  their  little 
valley  the  next  day.  Leo  swept  a  hand  to 
the  steep  gorge  down  which  the  little  creek 
came  tumbling.  "Plenty  slide  up  there," 
said  he.  "Maybe-so  three  mile,  maybe-so 
five." 

"Well,  now,  how  about  that,  Leo?"  in- 
quired Uncle  Dick.  "That's  quite  a  climb, 
perhaps.  Shall  we  come  back  here  to-night, 
or  stay  up  in  the  hills?  We  might  pack  up 
a  camp  outfit,  and  let  Moise  and  George  come 
back  here  to  spend  the  night." 

"All  right,"  said  Leo.  "That's  most  best 
way.  High  up  this  creek  she  come  flatten 
down — ^little  valley  there,  plenty  slide,  plenty 
grizzlum." 

"No    mosquito-tent    now,    fellows,"    said 

202 


THE   FIRST   BEAR  CAMP 

Rob,  laughing.  ' '  That  '11  be  too  heavy  to  pack 
up — we'll  take  the  light  silk  shelter-tent,  and 
get  on  the  best  we  can  to-night,  eh?" 

"Precisely,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "and  only 
one  blanket  for  two.  That,  with  our  rifles 
and  axes  and  some  bacon  and  flour,  will  make 
all  the  load  we  need  in  a  country  such  as  this." 

Equipped  for  the  chase,  early  in  the  day 
they  plunged  into  the  dense  forest  which 
seemed  to  fill  up  completely  the  valley  of  the 
little  stream  which  came  tumbling  down  out 
of  the  high  country.  Leo  went  ahead  at  a 
good  pace,  followed  by  Moise  and  George 
with  their  packs.  Uncle  Dick  and  the  yoimg 
hunters  carried  no  packs,  but,  even  so,  they 
were  obliged  to  keep  up  a  very  fast  gait  to 
hold  the  leaders  in  sight.  The  going  was  the 
worst  imaginable,  the  forest  being  full  of  dev- 
il's-club  and  alder,  and  the  course — for  path 
or  trail  there  was  none — often  leading  directly 
across  the  trunk  of  some  great  tree  over 
which  none  of  the  boys  cotild  climb  un- 
assisted. 

At  times  they  reached  places  along  the 
valley  where  the  only  cover  was  a  dense 
growth  of  alders,  all  of  which  leaned  downhill 
close   to   the   ground,    and   then   curved   up 

203 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

strongly  at  their  extremities.  Perhaps  no 
going  is  worse  than  sidehill  country  covered 
with  bent  alders,  and  sometimes  the  boys 
almost  lost  their  patience.  They  coiild  not 
stoop  down  under  the  alders,  and  could 
hardly  crawl  over  or  through  them. 

"This  is  the  worst  ever,  Uncle  Dick,"  com- 
plained Jesse.  "What  makes  them  grow  this 
way?" 

"It's  the  snow,"  replied  his  uncle.  "All 
this  country  has  a  very  heavy  snowfall  in  the 
winter.  It  packs  down  these  bushes  and 
slides  down  over  them  until  it  combs  them  all 
downhill.  Then  when  the  snow  melts  or 
slides  ofif  the  ends  of  the  bushes  begin  to 
grow  up  again  toward  the  light  and  the  sun. 
That's  why  they  curve  at  the  ends  and  why 
they  lie  so  flat  to  the  ground.  Mixed  in  with 
devil 's-club,  I  must  say  these  alders  are  enough 
to  try  a  saint." 

In  the  course  of  an  hour  or  so  they  had 
passed  the  heaviest  forest  growth  and  gotten 
above  the  worst  of  the  alder  thicket.  On 
ahead  they  could  now  begin  to  see  steep 
mountainsides,  and  their  progress  was  up 
the  shoulder  of  a  mountain,  at  as  sharp  an 
angle  as  they  could  well  accomplish.     After 

204 


THE  FIRST   BEAR  CAMP 

a  time  they  came  to  a  steep  slope  still  covered 
with  a  long,  slanting  drift  of  snow  which  ran 
down  sharply  to  the  timibling  creek  below 
them.  Across  this  the  three  men  with  the 
packs  already  made  their  way,  but  the  boys 
hesitated,  for  the  snow  seemed  to  lie  at  an 
angle  of  at  least  forty-five  degrees,  and  a  slip 
would  have  meant  a  long  roll  to  the  bottom 
of  the  slope. 

"It's  perfectly  safe,"  said  Uncle  Dick, 
"especially  since  the  others  have  stamped  in 
footholds.  You  just  follow  me  and  step  in 
my  tracks.  Not  that  way,  Jesse —  don't  lean 
in  toward  the  slope,  for  that  is  not  the  way 
to  cross  ice  or  snow  on  a  side-hill.  If  you  lean 
in,  don't  you  see,  you  make  yourself  most 
liable  to  sHp?  Walk  just  as  straight  up  as 
though  you  were  on  level  ground — that's  the 
safest  position  you  can  take." 

"Well,"  said  Jesse,  "I  can  understand  how 
that  theory  works,  but  it's  awfully  hard  not 
to  lean  over  when  you  feel  as  though  your 
feet  were  going  to  slip  from  under  you." 

They  gained  confidence  as  they  advanced 
on  the  icy  sidehill,  and  got  across  without 
mishap.  Soon  they  came  up  with  the  three 
packers,  who  were  resting  and  waiting  for  them. 

205 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

"Make  camp  soon  now,"  said  Leo.  "Good 
place.    Plenty  slide  not  far." 

Indeed,  within  half  a  mile  the  men  threw 
off  their  packs  at  a  grunted  word  or  so  from 
Leo,  and  at  once  began  to  make  their  simple 
preparations  for  a  camp.  It  was  now  almost 
noon,  and  all  the  party  were  well  tired,  so 
that  a  kettle  of  tea  seemed  welcome. 

"Which  way  do  we  hunt  from  here,  Leo?" 
inquired  Uncle  Dick,  as  they  sat  on  a  rock  at 
the  comfortable  little  bivouac  they  had  con- 
structed. 

"Walk  one  mile,"  answered  Leo,  "go 
around  edge  this  moimtain  here.  Come  little 
creek  there,  three,  four  good  slides.  We  kill 
'um  bear  last  spring.  Camp  here,  so  not  get 
too  close." 

After  a  time  they  were  all  ready  for  the 
hunt,  but  Leo  seemed  unhappy  about  some- 
thing. 

"You  s'pose  them  boy  go  along?"  he  in- 
quired of  the  leader. 

" They  surely  do,"  was  the  answer.  "That's 
what  we  came  here  for." 

"Even  those  small  leetle  boy?" 

"Even  those  small  leetle  boy,  yes,  Leo. 
You  don't  need  to  be  uneasy — you  and  I  can 

206 


THE   FIRST  BEAR  CAMP 

take  care  of  these  boys  if  they  show  they 
can't  take  care  of  themselves.  How  about 
that,  Moise?" 

"I'll  tol'  Leo  those  boy  she'll  been  all  right," 
said  Moise.  "I'll  been  out  with  those  boy 
when  she'll  ain't  one  year  so  old  as  he  is  now, 
and  she's  good  honter  then,  heem.  Those 
boy  she'll  not  get  scare'.  Better  for  those 
bear  he'll  get  scare'  and  ron  off!" 

Accordingly,  there  were  five  rifles  in  the 
party  which  at  length  started  up  the  mountain 
after  Moise  and  George  had  gone  back  down 
the  trail  to  the  main  camp  on  the  river. 
They  climbed  upward  in  country  now  grown 
very  steep,  and  at  last  turned  into  a  high, 
deep  gorge  out  of  which  came  a  brawling 
stream  of  milky-colored  ice-water,  some 
twenty  or  thirty  yards  across.  Without 
hesitation  Leo  plunged  in  and  waded  across, 
proving  the  stream  to  be  not  much  more  than 
knee-deep.  And  truth  to  say.  Uncle  Dick 
was  proud  of  his  yoimg  comrades  when,  with- 
out a  word  or  a  whimper,  they  unhesitatingly 
plunged  in  also  and  waded  through  after 
their  leader.  Nothing  was  said  about  the 
incident,  but  it  was  noticeable  that  Leo 
seemed  more  gracious  thereafter  toward  the 

207 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

young  hunters,  for  pluck  is  something  an 
Indian  always  admires. 

"Now,  Leo,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  when  after 
a  steady  march  of  some  time  they  had  reached 
the  foot  of  a  slide  perhaps  half  a  mile  or  so 
in  extent,  which  lay  like  a  big  gash  of  green 
on  the  face  of  the  black  mountain  slope,  "I 
suppose  this  is  where  we  make  our  first  hunt." 

Leo  nodded,  and  began  to  feel  in  his  pockets 
for  some  cartridges. 

"Now  never  mind  about  loading  up  your 
magazine  any  more  than  it  is,  Leo,"  went  on 
the  other,  "and  just  pump  out  the  shells 
from  your  rifle.  If  there's  any  bear-killing 
done  by  this  party  this  afternoon  these  boys 
are  going  to  do  it,  and  you  and  I  will  only 
serve  as  backing  guns  in  case  of  trouble.  My 
gun's  loaded,  but  I  know  you  well  enough, 
Leo,  old  man,  not  to  let  you  load  your  gun 
just  yet  awhile  —  you'd  be  off  up  the  hill 
if  we  saw  a  bear,  and  you'd  have  it  killed 
before  any  of  the  others  got  a  chance  for  a 
shot.  You  just  hold  your  horses  for  a  while, 
neighbor,  and  give  my  boys  a  chance." 

"Me  no  like,"  said  Leo,  rather  glumly. 
"Me  heap  kill  'um  grizzlum." 

"Not  this  evening!  These  boys  hunt  'um. 
208 


THE   FIRST  BEAR  CAMP 

grizzlum  this  evening,  Leo.  They've  come  a 
long  way,  and  they  have  to  begin  sometime. 
You  hve  in  here,  and  can  kill  plenty  of  bear 
any  time  you  like.  Besides,  if  any  one  of 
these  boys  kills  a  bear  this  afternoon  I'm  going 
to  give  you  twenty  dollars — that  '11  be  about 
as  good  as  though  3^ou  killed  one  yourself  and 
got  nothing  but  your  wages,  won't  it,  Leo?" 

Leo  broke  out  into  a  broad  smile.  "All 
right,"  said  he.  "But  please,  when  you  come 
on  bear,  let  me  load  gun." 

"Certainly,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "I'm  not 
going  to  ask  any  man  to  stand  in  front  of  a 
grizzly  with  an  empty  rifle.  But  I'm  not 
going  to  let  you  shoot  until  the  time  comes, 
believe  me." 

The  boys  found  it  right  cold  sitting  about 
in  this  high  moimtain  air  with  their  clothing 
still  wet  from  their  fording  of  the  stream. 
They  could  see  on  ahead  of  them  the  flattened 
valley  of  the  creek  which  they  had  ascended, 
and  Leo  promised  that  perhaps  on  the  next 
day  they  would  move  their  camp  farther  in 
that  direction  and  so  avoid  fording  the  icy 
torrent  twice  a  day. 

"First  hunt  this  slide,"  said  he.  "Heap 
good.     I  ketch  'um  bear  here  every  time." 

209 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

For  an  hour  or  more  it  seemed  as  if  Leo 
was  not  going  to  "ketchum  bear"  this  after- 
noon, and  all  the  members  of  the  party  ex- 
cept himself  grew  cold  and  uneasy,  although 
he  sat  impassive,  every  so  often  glancing  up 
the  steep  slope  above  them.  All  at  once  they 
heard  him  give  a  low  grunt. 

Following  his  gaze,  they  saw,  high  up  on 
the  slide,  and  nearly  half  a  mile  away,  a  great, 
gray  figure  which,  even  without  the  glasses, 
they  knew  to  be  a  large  grizzly  bear.  The 
boys  felt  the  blood  leap  in  their  veins  as  they 
stood  looking  up  at  this  great  creature,  which 
carelessly,  as  though  it  knew  nothing  of  any 
intrusion,  now  strolled  about  in  full  view 
above  them.  Sometimes  it  pawed  idly  as 
though  hunting  grass  roots  or  the  like,  and 
then  again  it  would  stand  and  look  vacantly 
down  the  mountainside. 

"He'll  see  us,  sure,"  whispered  Rob. 

"S'pose  keep  still,  no  see  'um,"  said  Leo, 
still  sitting  looking  at  the  bear.  "S'pose 
hear  'um  noise  in  bush,  heem  not  scare. 
S'pose  him  smell  us  small  little  bit,  heem 
run,  sure.  Wind  this  way.  We  go  up  this 
side." 

They    now    threw    off    all    encumbering 

2IO 


THE   FIRST  BEAR  CAMP 

clothing,  and  each  of  the  boys,  with  loaded 
rifle,  began  the  ascent  of  the  mountain, 
parallel  to  the  slide,  and  under  the  thick  cover 
of  the  forest.  More  than  once  Uncle  Dick 
had  to  tap  Leo  on  the  shoulder  and  make  him 
wait  for  the  others,  for  an  Indian  has  no 
mercy  on  a  weak  or  inexperienced  person  on 
a  hunting-trail.  Indeed,  so  little  did  he  show 
the  fabled  Indian  calm,  he  was  more  excited 
than  any  of  the  others  when  they  began  to 
approach  a  point  from  which  they  might  ex- 
pect to  see  their  game.  Uncle  Dick  reached 
out  his  hand  for  Leo's  rifle  and  motioned  for 
him  to  go  ahead  for  a  look.  Leo  advanced 
quietly  to  the  edge  of  the  slide  and  stood 
for  a  time  peering  out  from  behind  the  screen- 
ing bush.    Presently  he  came  back. 

"Beeg  bear,"  said  he,  "grizzlum.  Heem 
eat  grass.  Up  there,  two,  three  hundred 
yard." 

Uncle  Dick  turned  to  look  at  his  yoimg 
friends  to  see  how  they  were  standing  the 
excitement  of  this  experience.  Jesse  was  a 
little  pale,  but  his  eyes  were  shining.  Rob, 
as  usual,  was  a  little  grave  and  silent,  and 
John,  although  somewhat  out  of  breath, 
showed  no  disposition  to  halt.     Smiling  to 

211 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

himself,  Uncle  Dick  motioned  Leo  to  the  rear ; 
and  once  more  they  began  their  progress, 
this  time  closer  to  the  edge  of  the  slide  and 
working  steadily  upward  all  the  time. 

At  length  he  held  up  his  hand.  They  could 
hear  a  low,  whining,  discontented  sound,  as 
though  the  bear  were  gnmibling  at  the  food 
which  he  was  finding.  Uncle  Dick  laid  his 
finger  on  his  lips  and  beckoned  to  Rob  to  go 
on  ahead.  Without  hesitation  Rob  cocked 
his  rifle  and  strode  forward  toward  the  edge 
of  the  slide,  the  others  cautiously  following, 
and  Uncle  Dick  now  handing  Leo  a  handful 
of  his  cartridges,  but  raising  a  restraining 
hand  to  keep  him  back  in  his  place. 

They  saw  Rob,  stooping  down,  advance 
rapidly  to  the  edge  of  the  cover  and  peer  out 
intently,  his  rifle  poised.  Then  quick  as 
thought  he  raised  his  rifle  and  fired  one  shot, 
stood  a  half  instant,  and  dashed  forward. 

There  was  no  sound  of  any  thrashing  about 
in  the  bushes,  nor  had  Rob  fired  more  than 
the  one  shot,  but  when  they  joined  him  it  was 
at  the  side  of  the  dead  body  of  a  five-hundred- 
pound  grizzly,  in  prime,  dark  coat,  a  silver  tip 
such  as  any  old  bear-himter  would  have  been 
proud  to  claim  as  a  trophy. 

212 


THE   FIRST   BEAR  CAMP 

Rob  was  trying  his  best  to  control  his 
excitement,  and  both  the  other  boys  were 
trembhng  quite  as  much  as  he.  Leo  quite 
forgot  his  calm  and  gave  a  tremendous  yell 
of  joy,  and,  advancing,  shook  Rob  warmly  by 
the  hand.  "Heap  shoot!"  said  he.  "I  see!" 
And,  taking  the  bear  by  the  ear,  he  turned  its 
head  over  to  show  the  small  red  hole  in  the 
side  of  the  sktill. 

"He  was  right  here,"  said  Rob,  "not 
thirty-five  yards  away.  When  I  first  saw 
him  his  head  was  down,  but  then  he  raised 
it  and  stood  sideways  to  me.  I  knew  if  I 
could  hit  him  in  the  butt  of  the  ear  I'd  kill 
him  dead  at  once,  so  I  took  that  shot." 

"Son,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "this  is  fine  busi- 
ness.    I  couldn't  have  done  better  myself." 

"I  s'pose  you'll  give  me  twenty  dollar  now," 
said  Leo;   at  which  they  all  laughed  heartily. 

"I  certainly  w411,  Leo,"  said  Uncle  Dick, 
"and  will  do  it  right  now,  and  on  the  spot! 
You  certainly  made  good  in  taking  us  up  to 
the  bear,  and  it  certainly  was  worth  twenty 
dollars  to  see  Rob  kill  him  as  quick  and 
clean  as  he  did." 

"Is  he  good  to  eat?"  asked  John. 

"No,  John.  And  if  he  were,  you  couldn't 
213 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

eat  all  of  him;  he's  too  big.  Some  men  have 
eaten  grizzly  liver,  but  I  beg  to  be  excused. 
But  here's  a  robe  that  down  in  the  States 
would  be  worth  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars 
these  days.  Come  on,  Leo,  let's  get  our 
work  over  with  and  get  back  to  camp." 

Under  the  experienced  hands  of  Leo  and 
Uncle  Dick  the  great  robe  was  rapidly  re- 
moved. Leo  rolled  it  into  a  pack,  and  Uncle 
Dick  showed  him  how  to  make  it  firm  by 
using  two  square-pointed  sticks  to  hold  it  in 
shape  after  it  was  folded — a  trick  Moise  had 
taught  them  long  before.  Leo,  though  not  a 
large  man,  proved  powerful,  for  he  scorned 
all  assistance  after  the  heavy  pack  was  once 
on  his  shoulders,  and  so  staggered  down  the 
mountainside.  So  pleased  were  the  boys 
over  the  success  of  their  hunt  that  they 
hardly  noticed  the  icy  ford  when  again  they 
plunged  through  the  creek  on  their  way  to 
camp. 


XXII 

THE   YOUNG   GRIZZLY   HUNTERS 

SO  excited  were  our  young  hunters  over 
their  first  bear-hunt  that  they  scarcely 
slept  at  all  that  night.  It  was  a  very  merry 
party  which  sat  late  about  the  little  camp-fire 
high  up  in  the  mountains.  Their  camp  was 
rather  a  bivouac  than  a  regular  encampment, 
but  they  now  scorned  any  discomfort,  and,  in- 
deed, exulted  in  their  primitive  condition. 

"Now,  Leo,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "what  do 
you  think  about  these  boys  as  hunters?" 

"One  boy  heap  shoot,"  grunted  Leo.  "Kill 
um  one  bear  when  mans  along.  Don't  know 
about  other  boys." 

"But  let  me  tell  you  they  have  killed  bear 
before  now,  and  big  ones,  too.  Why,  two 
years  ago,  up  in  Alaska,  all  by  themselves, 
they  killed  a  Kadiak  bear  a  good  deal  bigger 
than  this  one  whose  hide  we  have  here  for 
our  mattress  to-night." 

14  215 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

"Yes,  and  last  year  up  on  the  Peace  River 
we  helped  kill  a  big  grizzly,"  added  Jesse, 
"only  Alex  MacKenzie  was  along,  and  he 
shot,  too." 

"But  this  time,  Leo,"  continued  Uncle 
Dick,  "you  must  admit  that  only  one  shot 
was  fired,  even  if  we  were  in  the  woods  near 

by." 

"That's  all  right,"  admitted  Leo,  who  still 
felt  aggrieved  at  the  humiliation  of  not  being 
allowed  to  use  his  own  rifle  in  the  bear-hunt. 
"S'pose  only  one  bear,  and  only  one  boy, 
what  then?" 

"Well,  in  that  case  the  best  thing  the  bear 
could  do  would  be  to  run  away.  As  I  told 
you,  a  rifle  will  shoot  just  as  hard  for  a  boy 
as  for  a  man  if  the  boy  knows  how  to  hold  it." 

"Did  you  ever  have  a  bear  come  at  you, 
Leo?"  inquired  Rob. 

"Some  tarn  bear  come,  not  many,"  said 
he,  indifferently.  "Some  tam  bear  get  scared, 
not  know  which  way  he's  ron — then  people 
say  he's  got  mad." 

"And  didn't  you  ever  get  scared  yourself, 
Leo?"  inquired  Jesse. 

"Too  much  kill  'imi  bear  long  time  for  me 
to  get  scare',"  said  Leo,  proudly.     "KiU'um 

216 


THE  YOUNG  GRIZZLY  HUNTERS 

more  bear  pretty  soon,"  added  he,  pointing 
over  to  the  steep  country  on  the  other  side 
of  the  valley. 

"Well,  I  was  just  thinking,"  said  Uncle 
Dick,  "we  could  very  likely  get  more  bear. 
But  why?  Some  one  will  have  to  go  down 
to  camp  and  carry  this  hide,  or  else  take  word 
to  the  other  men  to  come  up  and  get  it. 
Besides,  this  isn't  the  only  bear  valley  in  the 
coimtry.  What  do  you  say,  boys?  Shall 
we  stay  up  here,  or  go  back  and  run  on  down 
the  river  farther?" 

The  boys  were  silent  for  a  time.  "Now, 
Uncle  Dick,"  said  John,  at  last,  "no  matter 
where  you  are,  you're  always  in  a  hurry  to 
get  somewhere  else.  It's  pretty  hard  to 
climb  up  into  the  real  bear  country  even 
when  you  get  near  to  it.  Now  here  we  are, 
already  up,  and  we  know  that  this  is  good 
bear  coiuitry.  We  would  only  lose  time 
if  we  himted  up  any  other  coimtry  lower 
down." 

"That's  very  well  reasoned,  John.  What 
do  you  say,  Jesse?" 

"Well,  I  don't  see  any  good  in  working  the 
men  too  hard  packing  the  stuff  up  from  a 
main  camp  anywhere  else.     The  devil 's-clubs 

217 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

stick  a  fellow  a  good  deal.  Besides,  here  we 
are." 

"And  you,  Rob?" 

Rob  looked  for  a  time  up  at  the  clouded 
sky,  bright  with  innumerable  stars.  "Well," 
said  he,  "it  certainly  does  look  as  though  we 
were  going  to  have  clearer  weather.  And  if 
so,  we  will  have  higher  water.  I  stuck  a 
stick  in  a  bank  for  a  water-mark  yesterday, 
and  I'm  just  wondering  how  much  the  river 
has  risen  since  then." 

"Precisely,  and  that's  well  reasoned,  too. 
You  see,  I  don't  want  to  take  any  more 
chances  nmning  these  rivers  than  I  have  to." 

"How  far  is  it  to  the  Columbia  from  here, 
Leo?"  inquired  Rob. 

"Half -day  ron — whole  day,  don't  know. 
S'pose  water  all  right." 

"Exactly,"  rejoined  the  leader  of  the  party. 
"We  don't  know  how  long  the  water  will  stay 
all  right.  Every  day  we  run  puts  that  much 
behind  us.  And  I  want  to  tell  you  all  that 
the  danger  of  hunting  these  grizzlies  is  nothing 
at  all  compared  to  the  risk  of  running  the 
upper  Columbia  when  the  rise  is  on.  I've 
tried  both,  and  I  know." 

John  protested  at  this.  "Well,  Rob  has 
218 


THE  YOUNG  GRIZZLY  HUNTERS 

got  his  bear,  but,  you  see,  Jess  and  I  haven't 
had  a  shot  yet — though  I  don't  suppose  that 
is  why  Rob  is  wilHng  to  go." 

"No,  that  isn't  the  reason,"  commented 
Rob,  quietly. 

Uncle  Dick  thought  for  a  time.  "Well, 
I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do,"  said  he,  at  length. 
"We'll  stay  at  least  one  more  day  and  hunt 
here  to-morrow.  Then  if  we  don't  have  any 
luck  to-morrow  we'll  run  on  down  and  have  a 
look  at  the  Columbia,  and  if  she  isn't  too  bad 
we'll  stop  at  some  good  country  below — say 
on  Nagel  Creek,  down  the  bend." 

"That  seems  fair,"  assented  John;  and 
Jesse  also  said  he  would  vote  the  same  way. 

"How  about  you,  Leo?"  inquired  Uncle 
Dick. 

"Me  not  'fraid  of  any  water,"  replied  the 
courageous  Indian.  "I  like  stay  here.  Most 
best  grizzlum  country  of  anywhere.  Down 
below  too  much  timber.  Plenty  black  bear, 
not  so  much  grizzlum.  Not  many  place 
where  you'll  get  grizzlum  now.  This  plenty 
good  place." 

"Agreed,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "I  think  you 
all  reason  pretty  well,  and  am  convinced  that 
we  could  spend  another  day  here  to  good 

219 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

advantage.  And  now,  Rob,  since  you  got 
your  bear,  I  think  I'm  going  to  send  you 
down  to  camp  in  the  morning  for  Moise  and 
George.  They  can  carry  down  the  hide  and 
some  of  the  other  stuff  which  will  have  to  go 
down." 

"All  right,"  said  Rob.  "I'm  not  afraid. 
The  only  risky  place  is  on  the  snow-slide  at 
the  side-hill.  Then  you  go  right  down  in  the 
creek- valley  and  follow  that   to  the  camp." 

"Very  well.  That  will  leave  the  other  two 
boys  to  make  a  hunt  to-morrow,  and  if  they 
have  as  good  luck  as  you  have  had  we  cer- 
tainly will  have  more  hides  in  camp." 

With  this  arrangement  already  made,  they 
at  length  turned  to  the  little  tent,  where  their 
blankets  and  the  big  hide  of  the  bear  made 
some  sort  of  a  bed  for  them. 

At  an  early  hour  of  the  morning  they  had 
finished  their  breakfast,  and  Rob  was  ready  to 
take  the  trail  back  to  the  camp. 

"Well,  so-long,  Rob,"  said  John.  "We're 
going  to  try  to  kill  as  big  a  bear  as  you  got. 
You're  not  afraid  to  go  back  through  the 
woods,  are  you?" 

' '  Certainly  not , ' *  said  Rob ;  "I  have  my  ax, 
and  my  compass,  and  my  match  box,  and  a 


THE  YOUNG  GRIZZLY  HUNTERS 

little  something  to  eat,  besides  my  rifle.  I 
might  be  able  to  get  clear  through  to  the  rail- 
road or  back  to  Tete  Jaune  if  I  had  to.  But 
I'll  not  have  to.    So-long." 

"That's  good  boy,"  said  Leo,  approvingly, 
after  Rob  left  and  as  they  saw  his  sturdy 
figure  trudging  steadily  onward  toward  the 
shoulder  of  the  mountain. 

"They're  all  good  boys,"  replied  Uncle 
Dick.  "I'm  going  to  make  hunters  out  of  all 
of  'em.  And  now,  just  as  a  part  of  their  educa- 
tion, they'll  all  help  us  to  flesh  out  this  bear- 
hide." 

Jesse,  hunting  around  on  the  side  of  the 
mountain,  found  a  bit  of  coarse  stone  which 
John  and  he  used  as  a  whetstone  to  sharpen 
up  their  knives.  They  knew  well  enough  that 
work  on  the  coarse  surface  of  a  bear-hide  dulls 
a  knife  very  quickly.  It  was  an  hour  or  two 
before  their  leader  was  satisfied  with  the 
preparation  of  the  big  hide. 

"I  wish  we  had  more  salt,"  said  he,  "but  as 
it  happens  Moise  has  put  in  a  little  tin  of 
pepper,  and  pepper  is  very  good  to  use  around 
the  ears  and  nose  of  a  fresh  bear-hide.  The 
main  thing  is  to  flesh  the  hide  carefully,  and 
to  skin  out  all  the  thick  parts  arotmd  the  ears 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

and  nose  very  carefully  indeed.  Then  you 
dry  the  hide — not  in  the  bright  sunlight,  but 
in  the  shade — and  never  let  it  get  near  a  fire. 
Some  hides  get  grease-burned  from  bad 
fleshing  and  bad  drying.  I  think  this  one'll 
do  all  right,  though,  for  we  made  a  pretty 
good  job  at  scraping  it  down." 

''Plenty  all  right  now,"  said  Leo.  "Go 
hunt." 

"Which  way  next,   Leo?"  inquired  John. 

Leo  pointed  up  the  valley.  "Plenty  slide 
farther  up.  S'pose  we  stay  here  three,  four 
days,  get  plenty  grizzlum.  Best  tam  late  in 
day.  Maybe-so  get  'imi  now,  maybe-so  not. 
Don't  know." 

"Yes,"  said  John;  "it's  too  bad  we  have  to 
start  back  to  camp  in  just  the  best  part  of  the 
day.  But  we've  agreed  to  do  that,  so  all  we 
can  do  is  to  do  our  best.  I  suppose  bears  do 
sometimes  come  out  before  evening?" 

"Once  in  a  while,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "a 
bear  will  come  out  on  the  slide  just  to  look 
around,  as  I've  told  you.  There  are  no 
absolute  rules  about  it.  They  don't  like  the 
sun  any  too  well,  but  sometimes  there  is  a 
heap  of  snow  on  a  slide,  usually  near  the  foot 
of  it,  and  I've  seen  two  or  three  bears  at  once 

222 


THE  YOUNG  GRIZZLY  HUNTERS 

come  out  and  lie  down  on  the  snow  to  get 
cool.  Then  sometimes  they  like  to  go  out 
where  they  can  get  a  bare  rock  to  scratch 
themselves  against.  Besides  that,  I  don't 
suppose  all  the  bears  get  hungry  at  just  the 
same  time,  and  come  out  on  the  slide  when 
they  hear  a  dinner-bell  ring.  Take  it  all  in 
all,  grizzly-hunting  is  about  as  hard  to  clas- 
sify as  anything  you'll  find.  It's  one  thing 
that  would  make  a  man  believe  in  luck, 
good  or  bad.  Anyhow,  we'll  go  and  try  our 
luck." 

On  their  way  up  the  valley  they  had  to 
wade  their  little  stream  once  more,"  but  at 
this  hour  of  the  day  it  was  not  very  wide  or 
deep,  although  it  certainly  was  very  cold. 

"Me  know  one  slide,"  said  Leo,  after  a  time, 
"very  old  slide,  not  steep.  Plenty  gopher  on 
that  slide.  Dig  in  dirt.  Grizzlum  he  like  eat 
gopher.  Sometam  he  come  there  and  dig 
gopher  most  all  day.  Maybe-so  ketch-tmi 
grizzlum  there." 

"That's  mighty  well  reasoned,  Leo,"  said 
Uncle  Dick,  approvingly.  "You  see,  boys, 
why  Leo  is  such  a  successful  grizzly-hunter — 
he  is  a  good  observer,  and  he  knows  the 
habits  of  animals,  and  why  animals  have  such 

223 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

or  such  habits.    To  be  a  good  himter  you've 
got  to  be  a  good  student." 

When  at  last  they  had  reached  the  upper 
end  of  the  flat  valley  in  which  the  many 
branches  of  their  little  creek  wandered  trick- 
lingly,  Leo  pulled  up  alongside  a  dead  log 
and  signified  that  they  would  stop  there  for 
a  time  while  observing  the  slides  on  each 
side  of  the  valley.  From  this  point  they  had 
an  excellent  view  of  a  great  mountain  series 
opening  out  beyond.  And  as  they  were  com- 
menting on  the  beauty  of  this  prospect  there 
came  to  them  one  of  the  experiences  of  moun- 
tains which  not  very  many  men  have  known. 

They  heard  a  heavy,  rumbling  sound,  yet 
faint,  like  thunder  in  the  distance.  Then 
slowly  they  saw  a  spot  on  one  side  of  the 
valley,  some  four  or  five  miles  distant,  grow 
misty  and  white,  as  though  a  heavy  cloud 
were  forming. 

"Look  yonder!"  exclaimed  Uncle  Dick. 
"That's  a  snow-slide,  boys,  and  lucky  enough 
we  are  that  we're  not  under  it.  It's  a  big 
one,  too." 

They  sat  silent,  hstening  to  the  dull  voice 
of  the  avalanche.  The  great  mass  of  snow 
which   lay  on   the   steep   mountainside   had 

224 


THE  YOUNG  GRIZZLY  HUNTERS 

begun  to  loosen  at  the  rim-rock  as  the  snow 
melted  and  began  to  trickle  imder  the  edges. 
Gradually  the  surface  of  the  ground,  moistened 
under  the  snow  this  way,  began  to  offer  less 
and  less  hold  to  the  snow  which  was  piled 
above  it.  Little  by  little  the  upper  region 
of  the  snow-field  began  to  drop  and  settle 
down,  growing  heavier  and  heavier  on  the 
supporting  snow  beneath,  imtil  finally,  under 
the  increasing  weight  above,  it  had  given  way 
along  the  whole  surface  of  the  mountain,  a 
half-mile  or  more  in  extent. 

It  chanced  that  at  the  foot  of  the  slide — 
that  is  to  say,  at  the  edge  of  the  valley — there 
was  a  tall  cliff,  or  rock  wall,  and  over  this 
precipice  all  the  mass  of  snow  now  was 
pouring,  driven  with  such  mighty  force  against 
this  wall  of  rock  at  its  foot  that  it  broke  into 
fine  particles  more  like  mist  than  snow.  In  a 
vast  cascade  it  poured  down  and  out  over  the 
valley,  making  one  of  the  most  wonderful  specta- 
cles a  man  could  see  anywhere  in  the  mountains. 

"There  are  rocks  and  trees  going  down  in 
that  cloud  of  snow,  very  likely,"  said  Uncle 
Dick,  "but  you  can't  see  them.  That's  how 
Leo  gets  his  bear-himting  cotmtry  made  for 
him — eh,  Leo?" 

225 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

Leo  grinned,  but  sat  watching  the  snow- 
slide  more  indifferently  than  the  others,  the 
work  of  the  great  forces  of  nature  being  ac- 
cepted as  a  matter  of  course  in  his  philosophy. 
The  others,  however,  could  not  repress  their 
wonder.  The  slide  ran  for  several  minutes, 
sometimes  subsiding  and  then  breaking  out 
in  full  force  again,  as  the  vast  mass  of  snow, 
dammed  up  by  the  edge  of  the  rock  wall, 
would  from  time  to  time  assimie  such  propor- 
tions that  the  snow  behind  it  finally  drove  it 
forward  over  the  brink.  Thus  in  successive 
cascades  it  ran  on,  imtil  at  last  it  died  away  in 
a  faint  dribble  of  thin  white.  Silence  once 
more  reigned  in  the  valley.  With  their  glasses 
they  could  now  plainly  see  a  vast  mass  of 
white  choking  the  upper  valley  almost  en- 
tirely across. 

"Now,  boys,"  said  their  leader,  "there  is 
something  in  this  mountain  work  besides  just 
hunting  bear.  The  people  who  live  in  the 
lowlands  don't  always  stop  to  think  very 
much  where  their  rivers  come  from  and  what 
keeps  them  up.  Here  you  have  seen  the 
birth  of  a  river,  or  a  part  of  a  river.  That 
mass  of  packed  snow  will  lie  there  nearly  all 
summer,  just  melting  a  little  bit  at  times, 

226 


THE  YOUNG  GRIZZLY  HUNTERS 

and  feeding  this  stream  which  runs  right  past 
us  here.  Still  farther  back  in  the  mountains 
you'll  see  the  glaciers — great  ice-fields  which 
never  thaw  out  completely.  These  are  the 
upper  sponges  of  the  mountains,  squeezed 
each  year  by  the  summer  sun.  That  is  why 
the  rivers  run  and  keep  on  nmning." 

"It's  wonderful  to  me,"  said  Jesse.  "I'm 
glad  we  saw  that — and  glad,  too,  that  we 
weren't  camped  right  where  it  came  down." 

"Yes,"  assented  his  uncle.  "In  that  case 
there  would  have  been  no  possible  help  for 
us.  But  good  hunters  in  the  high  country 
always  take  care  not  to  pitch  their  camp 
where  a  slide  can  possibly  come  down  on 
them.  We  wouldn't  have  been  more  than  so 
many  straws  imder  that  mass  of  snow  and 
rocks." 

They  sat  for  some  time  in  the  bright 
morning  sun,  their  wet  clothing  gradually 
becoming  dryer  upon  them  as  they  moved 
about  a  little  now  and  then,  or  restimed  their 
wait  with  Leo  on  the  log.  The  young  Indian 
sat  motionless,  apparently  indifferent  to  all 
discomforts,  and  with  no  interest  in  any- 
thing except  the  controlling  impulse  of  the 
hunt.    His  keen  eye  roved  from  time  to  time 

227 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

over  all  the  faces  of  the  slides  near  them  in 
the  valley,  especially  the  one  directly  in  front 
of  them  at  the  right.  Presently  they  noted 
that  he  was  gazing  intently  for  some  time 
at  one  spot,  although  he  said  nothing. 

"Do  you  see  an3rthing,  Leo?"  asked  John, 
idly. 

"Yes,  see  'um  four  bears,  grizzlum,"  said 
Leo,  quietly. 

At  once  all  the  others  started  into  interest. 
"Where  are  they,  Leo?"  demanded  Jesse. 
"I  can't  see  them." 

"Four  grizzlum,"  reaffirmed  Leo,  quietly. 
"Up  high.     Up  high,  two;    more  low,  two." 

Indeed,  at  last  they  saw  that  the  hunter 
was  not  mistaken.  There  were  four  bears  all 
at  once  on  the  surface  of  the  slides,  but  they 
were  almost  concealed  by  the  tall  vegetation 
which  in  places  had  grown  upon  it. 

"He'll  go  dig  pretty  soon  now,"  said  Leo. 
"Ketch-um  gopher." 

"You're  mistaken,  Leo,"  said  Uncle  Dick, 
"about  two  of  those  bears.  I  can  see  them  all 
plainly  with  the  glasses  now,  and  those 
lowest  down  in  the  brush  are  black  bears. 
The  upper  ones  are  grizzlies,  and  mighty 
good  ones,  too." 

22S 


THE  YOUNG  GRIZZLY  HUNTERS 

"Oh,  ho!"  said  Leo.  "No  see  *um  good  at 
first.  Yes,  two  black  bear — he  won't  go  close 
to  grizzlum.  Him  scare'  of  grizzlum.  Me  no 
like  'um  black  bear  there.  S'pose  we  go  after 
grizzlum,  them  little  black  bear,  he'll  ron  off 
and  scare  grizzlum." 

They  sat  watching  the  bears  from  their 
place  in  the  middle  of  the  valley.  The  largest 
one  began  to  advance  deliberately  toward 
the  middle  of  the  slide,  where  they  could  see 
little  heaps  of  yellow  earth  thrown  up  by  the 
burrowing  gophers.  The  bear  would  look  at 
these  idly  and  paw  at  them  curiously  now 
and  then,  but  it  was  some  time  before  he 
began  to  dig  in  earnest. 

The  second  grizzly,  lower  down  on  the 
slide,  went  earnestly  to  work,  and  apparently 
was  interested  in  something  which  he  thought 
was  imdemeath  a  certain  large  rock.  They 
later  found  that  this  rock  must  have  weighed 
three  or  four  hundred  pounds  at  least,  al- 
though they  saw  where  the  bear,  putting  his 
mighty  forearm  under  it,  had  rolled  it  out 
of  its  bed  as  easily  as  though  it  had  been  a 
pebble.  There  is  no  animal  in  the  world  more 
powerful  for  its  size  than  the  mountain 
grizzly. 

229 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

Leo  continued  to  express  his  dislike  of  the 
little  black  bears. 

"S'pose  grizzlum  ketch  plenty  gopher,  he 
stay  some  tarn.  We  heap  shoot  'iim.  But 
me  no  like  'um  black  bears.  No  get  aroimd 
'um;   they  ron  off  sure." 

"Well,  we'll  wait  awhile,"  said  Uncle  Dick, 
"and  see  what  '11  happen." 

"Just  look  at  them!"  exclaimed  Jesse,  who 
was  using  the  glasses  now.  "They're  playing 
like  children,  those  little  black  bears." 

They  could  see  that  these  two  smaller 
bears  were  apparently  out  more  for  a  lark 
than  anything  else.  They  would  lie  down 
sometimes  fiat  on  the  ground  like  dogs,  or 
sit  up  in  all  kinds  of  awkward  attitudes  and 
scratch  themselves,  first  with  one  foot  and 
then  another.  Sometimes  they  would  start 
off  and  gallop  aimlessly  for  quite  a  distance, 
then,  turning,  would  run  full  tilt  into  each 
other  and,  standing  up  on  their  hind  legs, 
would  box  like  men.  At  this  sport  one  bear 
seemed  to  be  the  better,  and  sometimes 
would  land  so  hard  a  cuff  on  his  comrade  as 
to  knock  the  latter  rolling  down  the  hill,  in 
which  case  the  aggrieved  one,  recovering 
himself,  with  ears  laid  back  would  run  up 
230 


THE  YOUNG  GRIZZLY  HUNTERS 

once  more  at  his  antagonist  and  resume  the 
half -playful  combat. 

The  two  big  grizzlies,  stately  and  dignified, 
paid  no  attention  to  these  antics,  but  went  on 
with  their  own  employment  of  digging  for 
breakfast.  Sometimes  they  would  stand  mo- 
tionless, looking  out  over  the  country,  then 
leisurely  go  back  to  their  digging.  If  they 
saw  the  black  bears  they  did  not  pay  any 
attention  to  them. 

At  last  the  two  little  bears  became  either 
bolder  or  more  careless,  and  began  to  work 
higher  up  the  slide.  Then  the  nearest  grizzly, 
his  mane  erect  on  his  shoulders,  and  head 
down,  made  a  sort  of  short  run  at  them, 
half  carelessly  and  indifferently,  as  though  he 
held  them  in  contempt.  At  this  both  the 
black  bears  turned  tail  and  galloped  off  lum- 
beringly  into  the  forest,  and  were  seen  no 
more. 

Leo,  with  a  short  grunt,  arose  and  reached 
for  his  rifle.  He  made  a  quick  motion  with 
his  arm  for  the  others  to  follow,  and  set  out 
in  the  direction  which  would  put  him  down- 
wind from  the  game.  In  order  to  reach  the 
proper  side  of  the  slide  they  had  to  walk  in 
full  view  in  the  open  vaUey,  directly  below 

15  231 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

the  two  bears,  but  Leo  seemed  to  be  not  in 
the  least  uneasy  about  this. 

"Grizzlum  not  see  'um  very  good,"  said 
he.  "He  can't  look  half-mile.  Smell  'um 
very  good." 

When  they  reached  the  edge  of  the  timber 
and  made  ready  for  the  climb  up  the  side  of 
the  slide,  the  Indian  turned  inquiringly  to 
Uncle  Dick  and  patted  his  rifle  on  the  stock. 
"S'pose  two  bear,  grizzlimi?"  he  said. 

"All  right,  Leo,"  said  Uncle  Dick;  "you're 
in  on  this  hunt  with  the  rest  of  us.  We'll 
all  load  our  rifles  here.  Now,  John,  you  go 
on  with  Leo,  and  take  the  grizzly  highest  up. 
He's  maybe  the  biggest ;  I  don't  know.  Jesse 
and  I  will  stop  opposite  the  bear  which  is 
lowest  down  and  wait  till  you  get  in  reach  of 
yours.  When  you  do,  open  up,  and  we'll 
shoot  as  soon  as  we  see  ours.  The  slide  is 
narrow  up  there,  and  they'll  be  imder  cover 
in  forty  yards.  There  are  two  robes  too 
good  to  lose,  and  we'll  all  just  take  a  hand  in 
stopping  them." 

"I'd  like  to  kill  one  all  by  myself  the  way 
Rob  did,"  said  Jesse,  although  it  must  be 
admitted  he  was  just  a  trifle  pale. 

"Maybe  you  will,"  said  his  imcle.  "But 
232 


THE  YOUNG  GRIZZLY  HUNTERS 

any  hunter  has  to  take  a  bear  just  as  he  finds 
his  chance.  It's  always  best  for  two  men  to 
go  up  together  on  a  grizzly,  no  matter  how 
good  a  hunter  either  may  be.  It  isn't  often 
that  you  get  as  good  a  chance  as  Rob  had  on 
his  bear.  You  leave  that  to  Leo  and  me.  And, 
Leo,  mind  now,  give  your  boy  the  first  shot 
at  the  bear  if  it's  a  possible  thing  to  do  it. 
m  do  the  same  way  with  Jesse." 

They  began  now  their  steady  climb  imder 
cover,  sometimes  in  the  edge  of  the  forest,  and 
sometimes  on  the  face  of  the  slide  itself. 
They  were  surprised  to  see  that  what  had" 
appeared  to  be  a  flat  green  slope  was  really 
a  very  steep  one,  and  covered  in  some  places 
with  bushes  much  higher  than  their  heads, 
with  tall,  rank  shrubs  and  early  vegetation 
of  many  sorts.  Leo,  as  good  a  grizzly-hunter 
as  could  have  been  foimd  in  all  the  west, 
was  allowed  to  lead  the  way,  and  he  took 
good  care  never  to  get  within  sight  of  the 
game  or  to  allow  the  wind  to  blow  from  him 
toward  the  bears.  He  climbed  so  fast  that 
the  others  had  much  difficulty  in  keeping 
up  with  him.  But  at  length,  making  a  swift 
detour  in  the  forest,  he  paused  and  raised  a 
hand. 

233 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

the  two  bears,  but  Leo  seemed  to  be  not  in 
the  least  uneasy  about  this. 

"Grizzlum  not  see  'um  very  good,"  said 
he.  "He  can't  look  half-mile.  Smell  'um 
very  good." 

When  they  reached  the  edge  of  the  timber 
and  made  ready  for  the  climb  up  the  side  of 
the  slide,  the  Indian  turned  inquiringly  to 
Uncle  Dick  and  patted  his  rifle  on  the  stock. 
"S'pose  two  bear,  grizzlum?"  he  said. 

"All  right,  Leo,"  said  Uncle  Dick;  "you're 
in  on  this  hunt  with  the  rest  of  us.  We'll 
all  load  our  rifles  here.  Now,  John,  you  go 
on  with  Leo,  and  take  the  grizzly  highest  up. 
He's  maybe  the  biggest ;  I  don't  know.  Jesse 
and  I  will  stop  opposite  the  bear  which  is 
lowest  down  and  wait  till  you  get  in  reach  of 
yours.  When  you  do,  open  up,  and  we'll 
shoot  as  soon  as  we  see  ours.  The  slide  is 
narrow  up  there,  and  they'll  be  under  cover 
in  forty  yards.  There  are  two  robes  too 
good  to  lose,  and  we'll  all  just  take  a  hand  in 
stopping  them." 

"I'd  like  to  kill  one  all  by  myself  the  way 
Rob  did,"  said  Jesse,  although  it  must  be 
admitted  he  was  just  a  trifle  pale. 

"Maybe  you  will,"  said  his  uncle.  "But 
232 


THE  YOUNG  GRIZZLY  HUNTERS 

any  hunter  has  to  take  a  bear  just  as  he  finds 
his  chance.  It's  always  best  for  two  men  to 
go  up  together  on  a  grizzly,  no  matter  how 
good  a  hunter  either  may  be.  It  isn't  often 
that  you  get  as  good  a  chance  as  Rob  had  on 
his  bear.  You  leave  that  to  Leo  and  me.  And, 
Leo,  mind  now,  give  your  boy  the  first  shot 
at  the  bear  if  it's  a  possible  thing  to  do  it. 
I'll  do  the  same  way  with  Jesse." 

They  began  now  their  steady  climb  imder 
cover,  sometimes  in  the  edge  of  the  forest,  and 
sometimes  on  the  face  of  the  slide  itself. 
They  were  surprised  to  see  that  what  had 
appeared  to  be  a  flat  green  slope  was  reaUy 
a  very  steep  one,  and  covered  in  some  places 
with  bushes  much  higher  than  their  heads, 
with  tall,  rank  shrubs  and  early  vegetation 
of  many  sorts.  Leo,  as  good  a  grizzly-himter 
as  could  have  been  found  in  all  the  west, 
was  allowed  to  lead  the  way,  and  he  took 
good  care  never  to  get  within  sight  of  the 
game  or  to  allow  the  wind  to  blow  from  him 
toward  the  bears.  He  climbed  so  fast  that 
the  others  had  much  difficulty  in  keeping 
up  with  him.  But  at  length,  making  a  swift 
detour  in  the  forest,  he  paused  and  raised  a 
hand. 

233 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

They  could  hear  now  the  whining,  grum- 
bling voice  of  the  grizzly,  as  though  he  were 
complaining  about  his  poor  luck  with  the 
gophers,  now  and  then  a  grunt  of  anger  or 
disgust  as  he  tugged  at  some  rock.  They 
knew  this  to  be  the  larger  bear,  the  one 
higher  up  the  hillside.  Leo  pointed  that 
way  and  caught  John  by  the  arm,  motioning 
to  Uncle  Dick  and  Jesse  to  advance  straight 
toward  the  slide  in  their  position. 

Without  hesitation  John  dropped  in  behind 
his  guide;  and  Jesse,  whether  or  not  he  felt 
any  trace  of  fear,  in  turn  followed  his  own 
leader.  Thus  for  the  moment  the  two  parties 
were  separated. 

In  a  few  moments  Leo  and  John  were  at 
the  edge  of  their  cover.  The  Indian  caught 
the  boy  roughly  by  the  arm,  at  the  same 
time  cocking  his  own  gtm.  They  were  in  the 
edge  of  a  little  poplar  thicket  which  jutted 
out  from  the  pine  forest  upon  the  slide.  Leo 
would  have  preferred  to  get  above  his  bear, 
as  all  good  himters  do,  but  saw  that  the  cover 
above  would  not  be  so  good.  Now,  as  John 
stepped  to  the  edge  of  the  thicket  he  saw  the 
great  grizzly  directly  above  him,  not  thirty 
yards  away  up  the  slope. 

334 


THE  YOUNG  GRIZZLY  HUNTERS 

At  the  same  instant  also  the  bear  saw  the 
hunters.  He  stood  looking  down  at  them, 
champing  his  jaws  like  a  big  hog  and  making 
no  motion  either  offensive  or  defensive.  John 
reached  one  hand  back  to  quiet  Leo,  who  had 
given  him  a  strong  dig  in  the  back.  Then 
quickly  he  raised  his  rifle  and  fired.  It  was 
impossible  to  restrain  the  Indian  much  longer, 
and  his  shot  was  so  close  to  John's  that  they 
soimded  almost  like  one,  although  John 
really  was  first  to  hit  the  bear. 

The  mark  was  easy  enough  for  any  one  of 
any  sort  of  steadiness,  for  the  bear  stood 
with  his  broad  breast  full  toward  them. 
John's  bullet,  as  they  foimd,  struck  fair 
enough  and  ranged  deep  into  the  great  body, 
while  Leo's  landed  on  one  shoulder.  It  is 
possible  neither  shot  would  have  knocked 
the  bear  down,  but  any  bear,  when  hit,  will 
drop.  This  one,  with  an  angry  roar  which 
could  have  been  heard  half  a  mile,  let  go  and 
came  down  directly  toward  them,  rolling  and 
clawing,  biting  at  itself,  and  struggling  to 
catch  its  footing.  John  fired  again,  and  to 
his  shame  be  it  said  that  this  time  his  bullet 
went  wild.  At  his  side,  however,  Leo,  brave 
as  a  soldier,  stood  firm,  rapidly  working  the 

235 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

lever  of  his  own  rifle.  John  recovered  pres- 
ently and  joined  in.  In  a  few  seconds,  al- 
though it  seemed  long  to  the  younger  hunter, 
their  double  fire  had  accounted  for  the 
grizzly,  which  rolled  over  and  expired  very 
close  to  them,  its  body  caught  in  its  descent 
by  two  or  three  trees. 

Meantime — although  John  declared  he 
never  had  heard  it — there  came  from  below 
the  roar  of  the  rifles  of  Jesse  and  Uncle  Dick. 
The  second  bear,  perhaps  more  wary  than  its 
mate  or  perhaps  warmer  from  its  digging, 
had  left  the  open  space  and  taken  shelter 
in  a  little  clump  of  green  bushes  close  to  the 
point  where  the  two  hunters  approached  the 
slide.  When  the  sound  of  firing  began  above, 
this  bear,  much  excited,  began  to  plunge 
wildly  this  way  and  that  inside  the  clump  of 
bushes.  At  last  it  broke  cover  almost  upon 
Jesse,  who  was  standing  in  front. 

"Shoot!"  called  Uncle  Dick,  in  quick  com- 
mand; and  Jesse  fired,  almost  without  aim, 
into  what  seemed  a  great  gray  mass  which 
ran  as  though  directly  over  him.  Almost  at 
the  same  instant  Uncle  Dick  fired  also  and 
then,  like  their  companions  above,  they  both 
fired  rapidly  as  they  could  until  their  bear 

236 


THE  YOUNG  GRIZZLY  HUNTERS 

also  at  last  lay  quiet,  but  dangerously  close 
at  hand. 

Uncle  Dick  pushed  back  his  hat  and  wiped 
his  forehead,  looking  at  Jesse  half  quizzically. 
"Son,"  said  he,  "it's  lucky  we  both  were 
here.  That  bear  was  either  badly  scared  or 
good  and  angry.  It  meant  business,  I  believe, 
and  it's  a  lucky  thing  we  stopped  it  when 
we  did." 

Jesse  put  his  rifle  to  the  ground  and  stood 
trembling  all  over.  "Well,  Uncle  Dick,"  said 
he,  "I  don't  know  whether  or  not  the  bear 
was  scared,  but  I  know  /  am  right  now." 

"It's  just  as  well  to  be  honest,"  said  his 
uncle,  putting  a  hand  kindly  on  his  shoulder. 
"Any  man  has  a  right  to  be  anxious  in  as 
close  a  comer  as  this." 

They  heard  the  loud  hallo  of  John  now,  a 
little  way  above  them ;  and  presently  Leo  came 
slipping  down  toward  them,  smiling  broadly. 

' '  Kill '  um  two  bear ! ' '  said  he .  "  Plenty  good 
himt,  eh?"  He  looked  at  the  little  heap  of 
empty  shells  lying  so  close  to  the  dead  bear. 

"Two  grizzlum,  both  fight,"  said  he.  "Bad 
bear.     Heap  shoot  'um." 

"And  I'm  mighty  glad  we're  no  worse  off," 
said    Uncle    Dick,    when   in   turn   they  had 

237 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

passed  from  one  of  the  great  grizzlies  to  the 
other.  "And,  speaking  of  luck,  you  boys 
certainly  have  had  it  in  every  way.  Leo,  it 
looks  to  me  as  though  you  put  us  up  almost 
too  close  on  these  bears." 

"No  see  *imi  from  trees,"  said  Leo.  "I  like 
shoot  'um  bear  close  up.  Heap  shoot  'um. 
This  boy  he  heap  shoot  'um  too." 

"All  is  well  that  ends  well,"  said  their 
leader.  "Now  here  we  are  again,  with  two 
big  bear-hides  to  get  down  out  of  these 
moimtains.  Are  you  satisfied,  boys — good  and 
plenty  satisfied?" 

"I  should  say  so,"  said  Jesse,  smiling;  and 
they  all  laughed  at  him. 

"I  don't  know  that  I  ever  knew  of  a  better 
hunt,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  at  last,  looking  ap- 
provingly at  the  two  bears.  They  had  rolled 
and  pulled  the  upper  bear  down  to  the  lower, 
so  that  they  now  lay  side  by  side.  "Three 
bears  like  this  in  two  days  is  certainly  con- 
siderable hunting.  These  are  big  as  Rob's 
bear.  The  robes  are  prime,  too,  and  not 
rubbed  to  amount  to  anything — one  dark 
silver  tip  and  one  gray  fellow.  You  can't 
ever  tell  what  color  a  grizzly  is  going  to  have 
or  what  he  is  going  to  do." 

238 


THE  YOUNG  GRIZZLY  HUNTERS 

They  fell  to  work  now,  each  party  skinning 
out  its  own  bear,  a  task  which  kept  them 
employed  for  some  time. 

"We'd  better  kill  the  next  bears  closer  to 
the  foot  of  the  slide,"  said  Jesse,  laughing. 
* '  Then  we  won't  have  to  carry  the  skins  so  far. ' ' 

"A  good  idea,"  assented  his  uncle.  "I'm 
telling  you,  a  full-sized  grizzly  hide,  green,  is 
all  a  strong  man  can  pack." 

"We'll  not  try  to  carry  them  down  to  the 
main  camp,  will  we?"  inquired  Jesse. 

"Indeed,  no.  We'll  be  lucky  if  we  make 
it  back  to  last  night's  camp  down  the  valley. 
There's  a  bare  chance  that  we  may  meet 
Moise  and  George  there.  They  won't  know 
where  we  are,  imless  they  heard  us  shooting." 

Leo  came  up  to  them  at  about  this  time, 
and  stood  looking  at  Jesse's  bear  for  some 
time.  "S'pose  me  get'um  two  twenty  dollar, 
now?"  said  he,  looking  at  Uncle  Dick.  The 
latter  looked  at  him  quizzically  for  a  time, 
rubbing  his  chin  with  a  finger. 

"Well,  Leo,"  said  he,  "you're  a  pretty 
good  business  man  as  well  as  a  good  grizzly- 
himter.  So  you  want  to  cash  in  on  our  bear, 
do  you?  All  right;  I  feel  so  good  about  it 
that  I'll  just  go  you — you  shall  have  twenty 

239 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

dollars  a  head  for  these  bears  —  and  sixty 
dollars  in  two  days,  besides  your  wages, 
ought  to  leave  you  and  your  cousin  George 
pretty  well  satisfied,  eh?" 

"Yes,  feel  heap  good,"  said  Leo,  grinning. 
"Buy  plenty  flour  now.  Plenty  grub  on  Fort 
George." 

"You're  no  better  satisfied  than  we  are,  my 
friend,"  rejoined  the  white  hunter.  Leo  ex- 
tended his  hand,  and  they  shook  hands  all 
around. 

"I'm  willing  to  go  on  down  the  river  now," 
said  John;  and  Jesse  smiled  his  assent. 

With  some  labor  they  squared  the  two 
hides  into  a  portable  pack,  one  for  each  of 
the  men,  binding  them  into  place  with  bits 
of  thongs  which  each  carried  at  his  belt. 
Then,  using  their  belts  as  tump-straps,  Leo 
and  Uncle  Dick  shouldered  their  heavy  loads 
and  started  down  the  motmtain. 


XXIII 

ONWARD   BOUND 

THEY  had  gone  down  the  valley  only  about 
half  a  mile,  now  and  then  splashing 
through  the  shallow  fords  of  the  meandering 
little  stream  which  spread  all  over  the  flat, 
gravelly  floor  of  the  valley,  when  they  heard  a 
shout  and  saw  Moise  advancing  rapidly 
toward  them.  That  worthy  came  up  smiling, 
as  usual,  and  beginning  to  talk  before  he 
came  within  good  ear-range. 

"Hollo!"  he  cried.  "Some  more  bear? 
Plenty  bear  now,  this  tarn?" 

Uncle  Dick  halted  and  dropped  his  pack 
to  the  groimd.  "Welcome!  Moise,"  said  he. 
"I  don't  know  that  I  ever  was  gladder  to 
see  you  in  my  life — this  load  is  heavy." 

"I'll  take  heem,"  said  Moise.  "My  faith, 
she's  big  bear,  heem,  too,  eh?  Two  beeg 
bear"  —  and  he  lifted  also  the  other  pack 
which  Leo  had  dropped  down.     "I  hear  you 

241 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

shoot  when  I  come  on  the  camp  here,  and  I 
say  to  myself,  'Moise,  those  boy  he  kill  more 
bear,  sure.'  Bimeby  I  come  up,  help  you 
get  load  down  the  hill.  George,  he's  make 
cup  tea  on  the  camp;  Rob,  he's  down  below 
on  the  big  camp,  on  the  boat. 

"Didn't  I  told  you,  Leo,"  continued  Moise, 
exultantly,  "those  boy,  she's  the  most  best 
grizzly-himter  ever  come  on  the  Tete  Jaune 
Cache,  heem?"  And  Leo  this  time  grinned 
his  assent  and  approval. 

They  now  made  their  way  back  to  the 
bivouac  camp  where  they  had  passed  the 
night,  and  where  they  were  much  refreshed 
by  a  limch  and  a  cup  of  tea  all  aroimd,  after 
which  they  made  ready  to  get  back  down  to 
the  valley  of  the  Canoe  as  rapidly  as  possible. 
All  the  men  had  particularly  heavy  loads  to 
carry,  and  even  the  boys  took  on  light  packs 
of  blankets  or  camp  equipment. 

They  made  the  journey  around  the  point 
of  the  moimtain  and  down  into  the  Creek 
Valley  which  ran  into  the  Canoe  without 
much  incident,  except  that  on  the  side-hill 
snowdrifts  George,  carrying  one  of  the  bear- 
hides,  slipped  by  reason  of  a  broken  foothold 
in  the  thawing  snow,  and  had  a  considerable 

242 


ONWARD   BOUND 

roll  downhill  with  his  load  before  he  brought 
up  against  a  little  tree.  To  the  others  this 
seemed  a  dangerous  experience ;  but  Leo,  like 
any  other  Indian,  found  it  only  laughable, 
and  he  derided  George  for  some  time  in  their 
own  language.  George  seemed  very  much 
chagrined,  for  no  Indian  likes  to  make  a 
mistake  or  be  himiiliated  in  the  presence 
of  others. 

As  may  be  supposed,  Rob  greeted  them, 
on  their  arrival  at  the  main  camp,  with  the 
greatest  delight  in  the  world. 

"WeU,  what  luck!"  exclaimed  he.  "Two 
more  hides — that's  one  apiece!  Did  each  of 
you  get  one,  fellows?" 

The  three  boys  now  shook  hands  all  aroimd, 
and  for  a  long  time  they  chatted  gaily  to- 
gether, telling  one  another  the  many  exciting 
incidents  of  their  himt.  They  all  agreed  that 
certainly  they  were  the  luckiest  yoimg  hunters 
that  ever  had  gone  after  grizzlies. 

"I  don't  know  how  you  all  feel  about  it 
now,"  said  Rob,  finally,  "but  for  my  part 
I  would  be  content  to  run  straight  on  down 
and  not  stop  for  any  more  hunting.  I've 
been  watching  my  water-mark  here,  and  this 
river  has  risen  almost  a  foot  in  the  last  twenty- 

243 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

four  hours.  That  means  that  the  snows  are 
beginning  to  go  on  the  upper  snow-fields. 
We've  had  a  big  hunt,  so  let's  take  out  the 
rest  of  it  in  a  big  run  on  the  old  Columbia — 
they  say  that's  worse  than  grizzlies." 

The  others  assented  to  this  readily  enough, 
for,  wet,  tired,  and  successful  as  they  were, 
they  welcomed  the  thought  of  a  night's  rest 
and  a  journey  in  the  boats,  which,  taking 
one  thing  with  another,  they  knew  would  be 
easier  than  climbing  after  grizzlies  in  the 
mountains. 

They  all  slept  soundly  that  night  in  their 
mosquito-proof  tent,  and  in  the  morning  were 
much  refreshed.  All  bore  a  hand  in  breaking 
the  camp  and  loading  the  boats,  and  early  in 
the  day  they  were  once  more  off  in  their 
swift  journey  down  the  mountain  river.  The 
river  itself  seemed  to  have  changed  almost 
overnight.  From  being  mild  and  inoffensive 
it  now  brawled  over  its  reefs  and  surged 
madly  through  its  canons.  Many  times  they 
were  obliged  to  go  ashore  and  line  down  some 
of  the  bad  water,  and  all  the  time,  when 
running,  the  paddlers  were  silent  and  eager, 
looking  ahead  for  danger,  and  obliged  con- 
stantly to  use  care  with  the  paddles  to  dodge 

244 


ONWARD   BOUND 

this  rock  or  to  avoid  that  stretch  of  roaring 
water.  There  was  no  accident,  how^ever,  to 
mar  their  progress,  and  they  kept  on  until 
in  the  afternoon  they  reached  a  place  where 
the  valley  seemed  to  flatten  and  spread,  a 
wide  and  beautiful  moimtain  prospect  open- 
ing out  before  them.  After  a  time,  at  the 
head  of  a  long  stretch  of  water,  as  both  boats 
were  running  along  side  by  side,  they  saw 
suddenly  unfold  before  them  the  spectacle  of 
a  wide,  green  flood,  beyond  which  rose  a 
wedgelike  range  of  lofty  moimtains,  the  inner 
peaks  of  which  were  topped  with  snow. 

"La  Grande  RiviereP'  exclaimed  Moise;  and 
Leo  turned  his  head  to  shout:  "Ketch-um 
Columby!" 

"Yes,  there's  the  Columbia,  boys,"  said 
Uncle  Dick.  And  the  three  yoting  hunters 
in  the  boat  waved  their  hats  with  a  shout  at ' 
seeing  at  last  this  great  river  of  which  they 
had  heard  so  much,  and  which  had  had  so 
large  a  place  in  their  youthful  dreams. 

Steadily  the  boat  swept  on  down  the 
stained  and  tawny  cturent  of  their  smaller 
river,  imtil  they  felt  beneath  them  the  lift 
of  the  green  flood  of  the  great  Columbia,  here 
broken  into  waves  by  the  force  of  an  up- 

245 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

stream  wind.  Uncle  Dick  called  out  an  order 
to  the  lead -boat.  Soon  they  all  were  ashore 
on  a  little  beach  near  the  mouth  of  the  Canoe 
River,  each  feeling  that  now  at  last  a  great 
stage  of  their  journey  had  been  completed, 
and  that  another  yet  as  great  still  lay  before 
them. 


XXIV 

THE   BOAT   ENCAMPMENT 

OUR  party  of  adventurers  were  now  in  one 
of  the  wildest  and  most  remote  regions  to 
be  found  in  all  the  northern  mountains,  and  one 
perhaps  as  little  known  as  any  to  the  average 
wilderness  goer — the  head  of  the  Big  Bend  of 
the  Columbia  River;  that  wild  gorge,  bent  in 
a  half  circle,  two  hundred  miles  in  extent, 
which  separates  the  Selkirks  from  the  Rockies. 
There  are  few  spots  on  this  continent  farther 
from  settlements  of  civilized  human  beings. 
To  the  left,  up  the  great  river,  lay  a  series 
of  mighty  rapids,  impossible  of  ascent  by  any 
boat.  Nearly  a  hundred  miles  that  way 
would  have  been  the  nearest  railroad  point, 
that  on  the  Beaver  Mouth  River.  Down- 
stream to  the  southward  more  than  a  hundred 
miles  of  water  almost  equally  dangerous  lay 
before  them.  Back  of  them  lay  the  steep 
pitch  of  the  Canoe  River,  down  which  they 

16  247 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

had  come.  Before  them  reared  the  mighty- 
wedge  of  the  Selkirks,  thrusting  northward. 
Any  way  they  looked  lay  the  wilderness, 
frowning  and  savage,  and  offering  conditions 
of  travel  perhaps  the  most  difficult  to  be 
foimd  in  any  part  of  this  continent. 

"I  congratulate  you,  young  men,"  said 
Uncle  Dick,  at  last,  as  they  sat  silently  gazing 
out  over  this  tremendous  landscape.  "This 
is  a  man's  trip,  and  few  enough  men  have 
made  it.  So  far  as  I  know,  there  has  never 
been  a  boy  here  before  in  the  history  of  all 
this  valley  which  we  see  here  before  us." 

Rob  and  John  began  to  bend  over  their 
maps,  both  those  which  they  had  brought 
with  them  and  that  which  John  was  still 
tracing  out  upon  his  piece  of  paper. 

"We  can't  be  far  from  the  Boat  Encamp- 
ment here,"  said  Rob,  at  last. 

"It's  just  aroimd  the  comer  of  the  Big 
Bend  here,"  rejoined  their  leader.  "Over 
yonder  a  few  himdred  yards  away  is  the 
mouth  of  the  Wood  River,  and  the  Encamp- 
ment lies  beyond  that.  That's  the  end  of  the 
water  trail  of  the  Columbia  going  east,  and 
the  end  of  the  land  trail  for  those  crossing 
the  Athabasca  Pass  and  going  west.    Many  a 

248 


THE   BOAT  ENCAMPMENT 

bold  man  in  the  past  has  gone  by  this  very 
spot  where  we  now  stand.  There  isn't  much 
left  to  mark  their  passing,  even  at  the  old 
Boat  Encampment,  but,  if  you  like,  we'll  go 
up  there  and  have  a  look  at  the  old  place." 

Accordingly,  they  now  embarked  once  more, 
and,  taking  such  advantage  of  the  slack  water 
as  they  could,  and  of  the  up-stream  wind 
which  aided  them  for  a  time,  they  slowly 
advanced  along  the  banks  of  the  Columbia, 
whose  mighty  green  flood  came  pouring  down 
in  a  way  which  caused  them  almost  a  feeling 
of  awe.  Thus  they  passed  the  mouth  of  the 
more  quiet  Wood  River,  coming  in  from  the 
north,  and  after  a  long,  hard  pull  of  it  landed 
at  last  at  the  edge  of  a  sharp  bend,  where  a 
little  beach  gave   them   good   landing-room. 

Uncle  Dick  led  them  a  short  distance  back 
toward  a  flat  grassy  space  among  the  low 
bushes.  Here  there  was  a  scattered  litter  of 
old  tent-pegs  and  a  few  broken  poles,  now 
and  then  a  tin  can.  Nothing  else  remained 
to  mark  the  historic  spot,  which  had  passed 
from  the  physical  surface  of  the  earth  almost 
as  completely  as  the  old  Tete  Jaune  Cache. 
Uncle  Dick  turned  away  in  digust. 

"Some  trappers  have  camped  here  lately," 
249 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

said  he,  "or  perhaps  some  of  the  engineers 
sent  out  by  another  railroad.  But,  at  any 
rate,  this  is  the  old  Boat  Encampment. 
Yonder  nms  the  trail,  and  you  can  follow 
that  back  clear  to  Timbasket  Lake,  if  you 
like,  or  to  the  Athabasca  Pass." 

"Is  this  where  they  came  in  from  the 
Saskatchewan?"  demanded  Rob. 

"No,  the  old  trail  that  way  really  came 
down  the  Blaeberry,  very  far  above.  I  pre- 
sume after  they  got  on  the  west  side,  in  the 
Columbia  valley,  they  took  to  the  trail  and 
came  down  to  this  point  just  the  same,  for  I 
doubt  if  any  of  them  ran  the  Columbia  much 
above  here.  Many  a  time  old  David  Thomp- 
son stopped  here — the  first  of  the  great  map- 
makers,  my  young  friends,  and  somewhat 
ahead  of  you,  John.  And  Sir  George  Simpson, 
the  lord  of  the  fur-traders,  came  here  with 
his  Indian  wife,  who  became  a  peeress  of 
Great  Britain,  but  who  had  to  walk  like  any 
voyageur  from  here  out  across  the  Rockies. 
I  don't  doubt  old  Doctor  Laughlin,  of  Fort 
Vancouver,  was  here,  as  I  have  told  you.  In 
short,  most  of  the  great  fur-traders  came  to 
this  point  up  to  about  1825,  or  1826,  at  which 
time,   as  we  have  learned,   they  developed 

250 


THE  BOAT  ENCAMPMENT 

the  upper  trail,  along  the  Fraser  to  the  Tete 
Jaune  Cache." 

''But  didn't  any  one  of  them  ever  go  up 
the  Wood  River  yonder?"  demanded  Rob. 
"That  looks  like  an  easy  stream." 

"The  engineer  Moberly  went  up  there, 
and  crossed  the  Rockies  to  the  head  of  the 
Whirlpool  River  on  the  east  side,"  replied 
Uncle  Dick,  "but  that  was  in  modem  times 
— about  the  same  time  that  Major  Rogers 
discovered  the  Rogers  Pass  through  the  Sel- 
kirks  below  here,  where  the  Canadian  Pacific 
road  crosses  the  Rockies.  It's  a  great  tumble 
and  jumble  of  mountains  in  here,  my  yoimg 
friends,  and  a  man's  job  for  any  chap  who 
picked  out  any  pass  in  these  big  mountains 
here. 

"Yonder" — ^he  rose  and  pointed  as  he 
spoke — "east  of  us,  is  the  head  of  the  Sas- 
katchewan— the  Howse  Pass  is  far  to  the 
south  of  where  we  stand  here.  Northeast 
of  us,  and  much  closer,  is  the  Athabasca  Pass, 
and  we  know  that  by  following  down  the 
Athabasca  we  would  come  to  Henry  House  and 
Jasper  House,  not  far  from  the  mouth  of  the 
Miette  River. 

"Now,  somewhere  north  of  here,  down  the 
251 


YOUNG  ALASJtANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

west  side  of  the  mountains,  came  the  trail 
from  the  Athabasca  Pass,  and  it  ended  right 
here  where  we  stand.  I've  never  made  that 
trip  across  the  Athabasca  Pass  myself.  That 
old  pass,  famous  as  it  is,  is  in  the  discard  now. 
With  a  railroad  on  each  side  of  it,  it  will  be 
visited  from  this  time  on  very  rarely  by  any 
man,  whether  he  be  tourist  or  bear-hunter. 
The  Rockies  will  take  back  their  own  once 
more. 

"But  here,  right  where  we  stand,  is  one  of 
those  points  conparable  to  old  Fort  Benton, 
or  Laramie,  on  the  plains  below  us,  in  our 
own  country.  This  was  the  rendezvous,  the 
half-way  house,  of  scores  of  bold  and  brave 
men  who  now  are  dead  and  gone.  I  want  you 
to  look  at  this  place,  boys,  and  to  make  it 
plain  on  your  map,  and  to  remember  it  always. 
Few  of  your  age  have  ever  had  the  privilege 
of  visiting  a  spot  like  this." 

Rob  and  Jesse  busied  themselves  helping 
John  with  his  map,  and  meantime  Moise  and 
the  other  two  men  were  making  a  little  fire 
to  boil  a  kettle  of  tea. 

"Why  did  they  stop  here?"  asked  John, 
after  a  time,  busy  with  his  pencil.  "Couldn't 
they  get  any  farther  up?" 

252 


THE   BOAT  ENCAMPMENT 

Uncle  Dick  pointed  to  the  jutting  end  of 
the  shore  which  hid  the  bend  of  the  river 
from  view  above  them.  "You  know  that 
river,  Leo?"  said  he. 

Leo  spread  out  his  hands  wide,  with  a 
gesture  of  respect. 

"Me  know  'um,"  said  he.  "Plenty  bad 
river.  Me  run  'um,  and  my  Cousin  George. 
And  Walt  Steffens — he  live  at  Golden,  and 
Jack  Bogardus,  his  partner,  and  Joe  Mc- 
Limanee,  and  old  man  Allison — no  one  else 
know  this  river — no  one  else  ron  'um.  No 
man  go  up  Columby  beyond  here  —  come 
down,  yes,  maybe-so." 

"Last  year,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "when  I 
came  in  from  the  Beaver  Mouth  I  saw  a 
broken  boat  not  far  below  Timbasket  Lake. 
Whose  was  it?" 

"My  boat,"  grinned  Leo.  And  George  also 
laughed.  "We  bust  up  boat  on  rock,  lose 
flour,  tea,  everything.  We  swim  out,  and 
walk  trail  down  to  here,  swim  Wood  River, 
and  go  up  Canoe  River,  fifty  mile.  Two  day 
we'll  not  got  anything  to  eat." 

"Well,  I  don't  see  how  they  got  up  these 
streams  at  all,"  said  John. 

"Joe  McLimanee  he  come  this  far  from 
253 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

Revelstruck,"  said  Leo.     "Take  him  twenty- 
nine  day,  not  on  high  water." 

"Then  there  must  be  bad  rapids  below 
here,"  said  John. 

"Yes,"  said  his  imcle,  "and,  as  I  went  up 
the  Canoe  myself  from  here,  I've  never  seen 
that  part  of  this  river,  but  they  say  that  at 
the  time  of  the  big  gold  excitements  a  genera- 
tion ago,  when  the  miners  tried  to  get  out  of 
this  country,  they  took  to  rafts.  The  story 
is  that  a  hundred  and  sixty-five  men  of  that 
stampede  were  drowned  in  one  year  on  the 
Death  Rapids." 

Leo  picked  up  a  stick  and  began  to  make  a 
map  on  the  sand,  showing  the  Big  Bend  of 
the  Columbia  and  some  of  its  side-streams. 

"You  start  Beaver  Mouth,"  said  he,  "all 
right,  till  you  come  on  Surprise  Rapids — all 
at  once,  right  round  bend.  Surprise  Rapids, 
him  very  bad.  Much  portage  there.  Very 
bad  to  get  boat  through  even  on  line.  Portage 
three  mile  there,  maybe-so. 

"Here  was  old  man  Brinkman,  his  rapid — 
not  so  bad,  but  bad  enough  for  to  scare  old 
man  Brinkman,  so  they  name  it  on  him, 
'Brinkman's  Terror.' 

"Here  is  what  Walt  Steffen  calls  'Double 
254 


THE   BOAT  ENCAMPMENT 

Eddy' — bad  place  sometam  in  high  water. 
Bime-by  we  come  on  Lake  Timbasket,  up 
there,  maybe  thirty  mile,  maybe-so." 

Leo  made  a  tracing  of  the  outline  of  the 
lake,  then  followed  his  scratch  in  the  sand 
on  around. 

"Now  begin  Twenty-six  Mile  Rapid,  all 
bad — Gordon  Rapids  here.  Big  Eddy  here, 
Rock  Canon  here.  Now  we  come  on  Boat 
Encampment.  This  way  Revelstruck.  Death 
Rapids  here;  Priest  Rapids  down  here;  and 
then  Revelstruck  Canon;  him  bad,  very  bad, 
plenty  man  drown  there,  too.  That  five 
miles  from  Revelstruck;  we  get  out  and  walk 
there. 

"Now  here" — and  he  pointed  on  his  sand 
map — "is  Boat  Encampment.  Right  around 
comer  there  is  one  of  most  bad  places  on 
whole  river." 

"But  you've  been  through.  Uncle  Dick. 
Tell  us  about  it." 

"Yes,  I  came  through  once  last  year,  and 
that's  enough  for  me,"  said  Uncle  Dick. 
"That's  the  Rock  Caiion  and  the  Grand  Eddy. 
Leo  has  shown  it  all  pretty  plainly  here.  I 
don't  want  to  make  that  trip  again,  m3'-self. 
But  when  we    got  to  Lake  Timbasket  we 

255 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

didn't  any  of  us  know  how  bad  it  was  going 
to  be —  the  old  trapper  who  acted  as  our 
guide  had  never  been  through  when  the  water 
was  high.  But  when  we  got  at  the  head  of 
the  Twenty-six  Mile  Rapids,  below  Lake 
Timbasket,  it  was  like  the  bottom  had  dropped 
out  of  things,  and  we  had  to  go  through,  for 
we  couldn't  get  back. 

"Of  course,  we  could  line  sometimes,  and 
many  of  the  chutes  we  did  not  attempt.  The 
first  day  below  Timbasket  we  made  about 
ten  miles,  to  a  camp  somewhere  below  the 
Cimimins  Creek  chute.  We  could  hear  the 
water  grinding — it  sounded  like  breaking 
glass — all  night  long,  right  near  the  place 
where  we  slept,  and  it  kept  me  awake  all 
night.  I  suppose  it  is  the  gravel  down  at  the 
bottom  of  the  deep  water.  Then  there  were 
growlings  and  rumblings — the  Indians  say 
there  are  spirits  in  the  river,  and  it  sounded 
like  it. 

"There  was  one  Swede  that  the  trapper 
told  us  of,  who  started  through  the  Cummins 
Rapids  on  a  raft  and  was  wrecked.  He  got 
ashore  and  walked  back  to  the  settlements. 
He  had  only  money  enough  left  to  buy  one 
sack  of  flour,  then  he  started  down  the  river 

256 


THE   BOAT  ENCAMPMENT 

again.  From  that  day  to  this  he  has  never 
been  heard  of,  and  no  one  knows  when  or 
where  he  was  drowned. 

"We  passed  one  big  boulder  where  the 
trapper  said  the  name  of  another  Swede  was 
cut  on  the  rock  by  his  friends  who  were 
wrecked  with  him  near  by.  I  beHeve  they 
were  some  miners  trying  to  get  out  of  this 
country  in  boats.  That  man's  body  was 
never  found,  for  the  Columbia  never  gives 
up  her  dead.  We  saw  Leo's  broken  boat,  as 
I  told  you;  and  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Tim- 
basket  we  found  the  wrecks  of  two  other 
boats,  washed  down.  You  see,  this  wild 
country  has  no  telegraph  or  newspaper  in  it. 
When  a  man  starts  down  the  Big  Bend  of  the 
Columbia  he  leaves  all  sort  of  communication 
behind  him.  Many  an  unknown  man  has 
started  down  this  stream  and  never  been 
seen  again  and  never  missed — this  river  can 
hold  its  own  mysteries." 

"Well,  tell  us  about  this  rapid  just  above 
here.  Uncle  Dick,"  went  on  Jesse.  "Wasn't 
it  pretty  bad?" 

"The  worst  I  ever  saw,  at  least.  When  we 
stopped  above  the  head  of  that  cafion  the 
trapper  told  me  where  the  trail  was  down  here 

257 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

to  the  Encampment,  but  of  course  I  concluded 
to  run  on  through  if  the  others  did.  Before 
we  got  that  far  I  was  pretty  well  impressed 
with  the  Columbia,  myself.  When  we  landed 
at  the  head  of  Upper  Death  Cafion  I  don't 
believe  any  of  us  were  very  sure  that  our  boat 
would  go  through.  No  one  was  talking  very 
much,  I'll  promise  you  that. 

"The  worst  part  of  that  long  stretch  of  bad 
water  of  the  Rock  Cafion  can't  be  more  than 
four  or  five  miles  in  all,  and  there  isn't  a  foot 
of  good  water  in  the  whole  distance,  as  I 
remember  it.  Of  course,  the  worst  is  the 
Giant  Eddy — it  lies  just  over  there,  beyond 
the  edge  of  the  hill  from  us.  In  there  the 
water  nms  three  different  ways  all  at  once. 
There  is  no  boat  on  earth  can  go  up  this  river 
through  the  Giant  Eddy,  and  lucky  enough 
is  the  one  which  comes  down  through  it. 

"You  see,  once  you  get  in  there,  you  can't 
get  either  up  again  or  out  on  either  side — the 
rock  walls  come  square  down  to  the  river, 
which  boils  down  through  a  narrow,  crooked 
gorge.  It  is  like  a  big  letter  Z,  with  all  the 
flood  of  the  Columbia  pouring  through  the 
bent  legs;  no  one  knows  how  deep,  but  not 
half  the  width  which  we  see  here. 

258 


THE  BOAT  ENCAMPMENT 

"That's  the  worst  water  I  ever  saw  myself 
— it  runs  so  strong  that  there  is  a  big  ridge 
thrown  up  in  the  middle  of  the  river,  many- 
feet  higher  than  the  water  on  either  side. 
There  is  a  crest  of  white  water  all  down  the 
sides  of  the  top  of  that  high  ridge.  The 
water  looks  as  though  it  were  hard,  so  that 
you  couldn't  drive  a  nail  through  it,  it's  flung 
through  there  at  such  tremendous  pressure. 

"You  don't  have  much  time  to  look  as  you 
go  through,  and  there  is  no  place  where  you 
can  see  the  Giant  Eddy  except  from  the 
Giant  Eddy  itself.  All  I  can  remember  is 
that  we  were  clawing  to  keep  on  top  of  that 
high  rib  of  the  water  midstream.  I  can  see 
it  now,  that  place — with  green  water  running 
up-stream  on  each  side,  and  the  ridge  of  white 
water  in  the  middle,  and  the  long  bent  slope, 
like  a  show-case  glass,  running  on  each  side 
from  us  to  the  edges  of  the  up-stream  currents. 
It  was  a  very  wonderful  and  terrible  sight, 
and  seeing  it  once  was  quite  enough  for  me. 

"About  half-way  down  that  long,  bad 
chute  I  saw  a  hole  open  up  in  the  crown  of 
that  ridge  and  could  look  down  into  it,  it 
seemed  to  me,  fifteen  feet — some  freak  in  the 
current  made  it — no  one  can  tell  what.     It 

259 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

seemed  to  chase  us  on  down,  and  all  our  men 
paddled  like  mad.  If  our  stem  had  got  into 
that  whirlpool  a  foot,  no  power  on  earth 
could  have  saved  us.  As  luck  woiild  have  it, 
we  kept  just  outside  the  rim  of  the  suckhole, 
and  finally  escaped  it. 

"Then  we  came  to  the  place  which  lies 
first  around  the  bend  above  us — a  great  deep 
saucer  in  the  river,  below  a  rock  ledge  of 
white  water — it  is  like  a  shallow  bicycle  track, 
higher  at  the  edges,  a  basin  dished  out  in  the 
river  itself.  I  don't  know  how  we  got  into  it, 
and  have  only  a  passing  memory  of  the  water 
running  three  ways,  and  the  high  ridge  in  the 
middle,  and  the  suckhole  that  followed  us, 
and  then  we  slipped  down  into  that  basin  at 
the  last  leg  of  the  Z,  and  through  it  and 
across  it,  and  so  right  around  that  bend 
yonder,  and  here  to  the  Boat  Encampment. 
You  may  believe  me,  we  were  glad  enough. 

"So  now,  adding  my  story  to  the  one  you'll 
be  able  to  tell  from  here  on  down,  you  may 
say  that  you  know  almost  as  much  about  the 
Big  Bend  of  the  Columbia  as  Gabriel  Fran- 
chere  himself,  or  even  Sir  George  Simpson, 
peer  of  the  realm  of  Great  Britain. 

"Some  day  they'll  build  a  railroad  around 
260 


THE   BOAT  ENCAMPMENT 

the  Big  Bend.  Then  I  believe  I'll  take  that 
journey  myself;  it's  much  easier  than  making 
it  as  we  are  making  it  now.  Not  that  I  wish 
to  frighten  you  at  all,  young  men,  about  the 
rest  of  our  journey,  for  our  men  are  good, 
and  Leo  and  George  have  the  advantage  of 
knowing  every  inch  of  the  river  thoroughly — 
an  Indian  never  forgets  a  place  he  once  has 
seen." 

"Have  you  'got  some  scares,'  Leo?"  in- 
quired John,  smiling.    Leo  also  smiled. 

''No,  no  get  scare — not  'fraid  of  Columby." 

"You  Shuswaps  are  white-water  dogs,  all 
right,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "I'm  not  going  to 
let  you  nm  all  the  rapids  that  you  want, 
perhaps,  between  here  and  Revelstoke. 

"Now,"  he  continued,  "if  John  has  finished 
his  map  work  I  think  we  can  make  a  few 
more  miles  on  our  way  down  this  evening, 
and  every  mile  we  make  is  that  much  done." 

"Bime-by  below  Canoe,"  said  Leo,  "come 
on  old  man  Allison's  cabin — ^him  trap  there 
two  winters  ago,  not  live  there  now." 

The  boys  looked  inquiringly  at  Uncle  Dick. 

"All  right,"  said  he.  "We'll  stop  there  for 
the  night."  So  presently  they  took  boat  once 
more,  and,  passing  the  tawny  flood  waters  of 

261 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

the  Wood  and  the  Canoe  rivers,  which  only 
stained  the  edges  of  the  green  Columbia,  not 
yet  wholly  discolored  in  its  course  through 
its  snow -crowned  pathway,  they  pulled  up 
at  length  on  a  beach  at  the  edge  of  which 
stood  a  little  log  cabin,  roofed  with  bark  and 
poles. 


XXV 

HISTORY  ON  THE   GROUND 

THE  boys  preferred  to  spread  their  mos- 
quito-tent again  for  the  night,  but  the 
others  concluded  to  bunk  in  the  old  trapper's 
cabin,  where  they  all  gathered  during  the 
evening,  as  was  their  custom,  for  a  little  con- 
versation before  they  retired  for  sleep.  John 
found  here  an  old  table  made  of  slabs,  on 
which  for  a  time  he  pursued  his  work  as  map- 
maker,  by  the  aid  of  a  candle  which  he  fabri- 
cated from  a  saucer  full  of  grease  and  a  rag 
for  a  wick.  The  others  sat  about  in  the  half 
darkness  on  the  floor  or  on  the  single  bunk. 

"There  was  one  book  you  once  mentioned, 
Uncle  Dick,"  remarked  Rob,  after  a  time, 
"which  I  always  wanted  to  read,  although  I 
could  never  get  a  copy.  I  think  they  call  it 
The  Northwest  Passage  by  Land.  Did  you 
ever  read  it?" 

"Certainly,  and  a  very  interesting  and  use- 

17  263 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

fill  book  it  is,  too.  It  was  done  by  two  Eng- 
lishmen, Viscount  Milton  and  Doctor  Cheadle. 
They  were  among  the  very  early  ones  to  take 
a  pack-train  across  by  way  of  the  Yellowhead 
Pass." 

"And  did  they  come  down  this  way  where 
we  are  now?" 

"Oh,  no.  They  went  west  just  as  we  did, 
over  the  Yellowhead  Pass  as  far  as  the  Tete 
Jaune  Cache.  They  crossed  the  Fraser  there, 
just  as  we  did,  and  turned  south,  indeed  pass- 
ing up  to  Cranberry  Lake  at  the  summit,  just 
as  we  did.  Their  story  tells  how  they  crossed 
the  Canoe  River  on  a  raft  and  were  nearly 
swept  away  and  lost,  the  river  being  then  in 
flood.  From  that  point,  however,  they  turned 
west  beyond  Albreda  Lake,  for  it  was  their  in- 
tention not  to  go  down  the  Fraser  or  the  Canoe 
or  the  Columbia,  but  down  the  North  Thomp- 
son. You  see,  they  were  trying  to  get  through 
and  to  discover  a  new  route  to  the  Cariboo 
Gold  Diggings." 

"What  year  was  that?"  inquired  Jesse. 

' '  That  was  in  1 863 .  The  Tete  Jaune  Cache 
was  then  sometimes  called  the  Leather  Pass. 
At  that  time  very  little  was  known  of  this 
great  region  between  the  Rockies  and  the 

264 


HISTORY  ON  THE  GROUND 

Pacific.  Milton  and  Cheadle  named  many  of 
its  moimtains  that  we  passed.  The  old  traders, 
as  I  have  said,  knew  nothing  of  this  coimtry 
except  along  the  trails,  and  these  men  even  did 
not  know  the  trails.  Just  to  show  ykdu  how 
little  idea  they  actually  had  of  this  region 
hereabout,  their  book  says  that  they  supposed 
the  Canoe  River  to  rise  in  the  Cariboo  district ! 

"Now,  in  order  for  the  Canoe  River  to  rise 
in  the  Cariboo  district,  it  would  have  to  cross 
a  vast  range  of  mountains  and  two  great  rivers, 
the  north  fork  of  the  Thompson  and  the  Fraser 
River.  Their  map  would  not  have  been  as  ac- 
curate as  John's  here,  although  when  their 
book  was  printed  they  had  the  use  of  yet  other 
maps  made  by  others  working  in  from  the 
westward. 

"None  the  less,  theirs  was  a  great  journey. 
There  were  only  two  of  them,  both  English- 
men, in  charge  of  the  party,  and  they  had  one 
half-breed  and  his  wife  and  boy  and  an  ineffi- 
cient Irishman  who  was  of  no  service  but  much 
detriment,  according  to  their  story.  To  my 
mind  theirs  is  the  most  interesting  account 
given  of  early  times  in  this  region,  and  the 
book  will  prove  well  worth  reading. 

"These  men  were  observers,  and  they  were 
265 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

the  first  to  realize  that  the  days  of  wild  game 
were  going,  and  that  if  the  Hudson's  Bay  Com- 
pany was  to  keep  up  its  trade  it  must  feed  its 
people  on  the  products  of  the  soil,  and  not  of 
the  chase.  They  speak  of  sixty  million  acres 
of  land  fit  for  farming  in  the  Saskatchewan 
Valley,  and  speak  of  the  coimtry  as  the  future 
support  of  this  Pacific  coast.  That  is  pre- 
cisely the  policy  of  the  Canadian  country  to- 
day. They  said  that  the  Hudson's  Bay  Com- 
pany could  not  long  govern  so  vast  a  region — 
and  all  the  history  of  the  Dominion  govern- 
ment and  the  changes  in  the  western  Canadian 
provinces  have  taken  place  almost  as  if  they 
had  prophesied  them  literally.  They  speak 
of  the  Yellowhead  Pass  as  being  the  best  one 
for  railroad  purposes — and  now  here  is  our 
railroad  building  directly  over  that  pass,  and 
yet  others  heading  for  it.  They  said  also  that 
without  doubt  there  was  a  good  route  down  the 
North  Thompson — and  to-day  there  is  a  rail- 
road line  following  their  trail  with  its  survey, 
with  Kamloops  as  its  objective  point.  It  was 
at  Kamloops  that  they  eventually  came  out, 
far  below  the  Cariboo  district,  for  which  they 
were  heading. 

"These  men  were  lost  in  a  wilderness  at  that 
266 


HISTORY  ON  THE  GROUND 

time  wholly  unknown,  and  how  they  ever  got 
through  is  one  of  the  wonderful  things  in  ex- 
ploration. They  took  their  horses  all  the  way 
across,  except  three,  one  of  which  was  drowned 
in  the  Fraser  and  two  of  which  they  killed  to 
eat — for  in  the  closing  part  of  their  trip  they 
nearly  starved  to  death. 

' '  They  were  following  as  best  they  could  the 
path  of  another  party  of  emigrants  who  had 
gone  out  the  year  before.  But  these  men  grew 
discouraged,  and  built  rafts  and  tried  to  go 
down  the  Thompson,  where  many  of  them 
were  drowned  on  the  rapids.  Perhaps  to  the 
wisdom  of  their  half-breed  guide  is  to  be  attrib- 
uted the  fact  that  Milton  and  Cheadle  took 
their  horses  on  through.  Had  they  wearied  of 
the  great  delay  in  getting  through  these  tre- 
mendous forests  with  a  pack-train,  they  must 
either  have  perished  of  starvation  or  have  per- 
ished on  the  rapids.  But  in  some  way  they 
got  through. 

"It  was  in  that  way,  little  by  little,  that 
all  this  country  was  explored  and  mapped — 
just  as  John  is  mapping  out  this  region  now." 

"It's  a  fimny  thing  to  me,"  said  John,  look- 
ing at  one  of  the  large  folding  maps  which  they 
had  brought  along,  "how  many  of  these  rivers 

267 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

up  here  run  north  for  quite  a  way  and  then 
bend  south  again." 

"Yes,  that's  a  peculiarity  of  this  upper  Pa- 
cific slope,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "That's  the 
way  the  Coliimbia  does.  Not  all  Americans 
know  the  Columbia  River  rises  near  our  boun- 
dary line  and  then  runs  for  hundreds  of  miles 
north  into  Canada  before  it  turns  and  swings 
southwest  over  our  country  to  the  Pacific — 
after  reaching  this  very  point  where  we  are 
sitting  now. 

"Take  the  Fraser  River,  too.  From  the 
Tete  Jaune  Cache  it  swings  far  northwest,  up 
to  the  Giscombe  Portage.  Then  it  bends 
just  like  the  Columbia.  You  may  remember 
the  upper  bend  of  the  Fraser,  for  that  is  about 
where  the  Salmon  River  comes  in,  down  which 
Sir  Alexander  Mackenzie  came — and  where 
you  went  in  last  year  on  your  trip  over  the 
Peace  River  Pass." 

"Oh,  don't  we  remember  that,  though!" 
said  John.  "And  now  that  you  mention  it,  I 
recall  that  at  that  time  we  were  speaking  of 
this  big  bend  in  the  Fraser." 

"Yes,  and  the  Canoe  River  rises  in  these 
hills,  and  it  nms  north  quite  a  way  before  it 
bends  down  and  comes  into  the  Columbia,  al- 

268 


HISTORY  ON  THE  GROUND 

though  it  runs  to  the  southeast  ultimately, 
and  not  to  the  southwest. 

"You  see,  these  mountains  are  all  laid  out 
along  great  parallels,  and  the  rivers  have  to  do 
just  as  we  did,  himt  a  way  through  if  they 
want  to  get  west.  This  is  the  pass  of  the 
Columbia  where  we  are  now,  the  way  it  has 
foimd  downhill  between  the  Selkirks  and  the 
Rockies.  Always  in  getting  through  from  east 
to  west,  as  I  have  told  you,  men  have  followed 
the  rivers  up  on  one  side  and  down  on  the 
other.  So  you  can  see,  right  on  this  ground, 
the  way  in  which  much  of  our  history  has  been 
made." 

"One  thing  about  this  sort  of  geography  is 
that  when  you  see  it  this  way  you  don't  forget 
it.  And  I  rather  like  those  old  books  which 
tell  about  the  trips  across  the  country,"  said 
John. 

"Yes,"  said  his  uncle,  "they  are  interesting, 
and  useful  as  well,  and  it  is  interesting  to  follow 
their  story,  as  we  have  done.  If  you  would 
read  The  Northwest  Passage — Rob's  book  which 
he  has  just  mentioned — you  will  see  that  they 
had  even  worse  troubles  than  we,  I  should 
say,  for,  although  they  had  one  good  guide, 
most  of  them  were  rank  tenderfeet.     They 

269 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

were  five  days  getting  from  Jasper  House  up  to 
the  Yellowhead  Pass,  and  they  were  a  month 
and  a  half  in  getting  from  Edmonton  to  the 
Tete  Jaune  Cache — very  much  longer  than 
we  were,  as  you  will  remember. 

"And  worst  of  all — and  here's  what  I  want 
you  to  remember — they  delayed  so  much  from 
time  to  time  that  when  they  got  out  of  this 
country  they  met  all  the  rivers  at  their  swollen 
stages.  They  reached  the  Cache  in  the  middle 
of  July,  and  that  was  why  they  foimd  the 
Canoe  River  so  swollen  and  dangerous  near 
its  sources.  We  are  about  a  month  ahead  of 
them.  And  now  you  will  see  why  I  have  been 
crowding  so  hard  all  along  this  trip — I  don't 
want  to  repeat  the  mistakes  of  the  earliest  ex- 
plorers who  crossed  this  country,  not  knowing 
what  they  were  to  find  in  it.  But  I  give  them 
all  honor,  these  two  Englishmen,  Milton  and 
Cheadle,  for  making  one  of  the  best  trips  ever 
made  over  the  Rockies,  all  things  considered, 
and  contributing  as  they  did  to  the  growth 
and  civilization  of  this  country.  For  they 
were  among  the  first  to  have  the  vision  of  all 
these  great  developments  which  have  come 
since  then." 

"They  must  have  had  a  hard  old  time," 
270 


HISTORY  ON  THE  GROUND 

said  Rob,  "plugging  along  and  not  knowing 
where  they  were  coming  out.  But,  then,  you 
told  us  that  everybody  who  crossed  the  moun- 
tains in  those  times  had  native  guides." 

"And  so  did  they.  At  Edmonton  they  met 
a  man  who  had  been  west  with  the  emigrants 
the  year  before,  who  had  started  for  the  gold- 
fields.  This  guide  had  taken  the  party  right 
up  by  Cranberry  Lake,  where  we  were  a  few 
days  ago,  over  the  Albreda  Pass,  and  down  the 
Thompson,  until  he  showed  them  what  he 
called  the  Cariboo  country — which  none  of 
them  ever  reached. 

"And  when  they  reached  Jasper  House 
they  found  some  of  Leo's  people — the  Rocky 
Mountain  Shuswaps — living  over  there.  In 
that  way  they  got  more  directions  on  how  to 
reach  the  Cache.  There  an  old  woman  told 
them  about  the  country  to  the  west,  and  a 
man  took  them  up  to  the  pass  into  the  Thomp- 
son and  showed  them  their  way  down — if  way 
it  could  be  called.  Then,  when  they  got  down 
toward  Kamloops,  they  met  yet  other  natives, 
and  if  they  had  not  they  must  have  starved  to 
death,  near  as  they  were  to  the  settlements. 
Left  alone,  these  men  perhaps  never  would 
have  gotten  even   to  the  Yellowhead  Pass. 

271 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

I'll  warrant  it  was  some  Indian  who  first  ran 
the  rapids  on  the  Columbia.     Eh,  Leo?" 

"Maybe-so,"  smiled  Leo,  who  had  been  lis- 
tening intently  to  every  word  of  this.  "Injun 
not  always  'fraid  of  water,  some  tribes." 

"Well,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "I  don't  know 
whether  it  was  courage  or  laziness,  Leo,  but 
certainly  a  great  many  of  your  people  were  the 
ones  to  tell  the  whites  about  the  rapids  on 
some  of  these  bad  rivers." 

They  all  laughed  heartily  over  this  at  Leo, 
who  joined  in. 

"But  it's  true,"  Uncle  Dick  went  on,  "there 
never  has  been  an  original  passage  of  the 
Rocky  Moimtains  made  by  a  white  man,  from 
the  time  of  Lewis  and  Clark  and  Mackenzie 
up  to  the  modem  engineers,  which  was  not 
conducted,  in  reality,  by  some  native  who 
pointed  out  the  way. 

"Now  here  we  are,  with  Leo  and  George. 
I  trust  them  perfectly.  Leo's  map,  there  on 
the  sand  at  the  Boat  Encampment,  showed  me 
that  he  was  perfectly  accurate,  and  that  he 
knew  the  places  of  all  the  streams  and  rapids. 
So  I  feel  no  fear  about  our  getting  down  the 
Big  Bend  from  here  with  him  as  our  guide. 
I'll  warrant  that  Leo  can  draw  a  map  of  the 

272 


HISTORY  ON  THE  GROUND 

river  from  here  to  Revelstoke  as  accurately  as 
any  professional  map-maker,  and  name  every 
stream  and  tell  every  rapid  all  the  way  down. 
In  short,  we  furnish  the  grub  and  Leo  furnishes 
the  experience." 

"We'll  not  furnish  grub  much  longer,'*  said 
Moise.  "The  flour  she's  getting  mighty  low, 
and  not  much  pork  now,  and  the  tea  she's 
'bout  gone." 

"Well,  what  could  you  expect?"  said  Uncle 
Dick.  "With  three  Injuns  and  an  engineer 
to  eat,  we  ought  to  have  an  extra  boat  to  carry 
the  grub — not  to  mention  John,  here,  who  is 
hungry  all  the  time.  We  may  have  to  eat  our 
moccasins  yet,  young  men." 

"Leo  says  we  can't  get  any  fish  yet,"  said 
John,  "and  we're  not  to  stop  for  any  more 
bear  meat,  even  if  we  could  eat  it.  We're  not 
apt  to  get  any  grub  right  along  the  river  either. 
I  don't  see  how  any  one  can  hunt  in  this  awful 
forest.  It's  always  cold  and  dark,  and  there 
doesn't  seem  to  be  anything  to  eat  there.  Rob 
and  I  measured  some  trees  by  stretching  out 
our  arms,  and  we  figured  that  they  were  thirty 
feet  or  more  aroimd,  some  of  them.  And  one 
log  we  walked  which  paced  over  three  hundred 
feet  —  it  was    so   thick    we    couldn't   crawl 

273 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

over  it  at  all.  That's  no  sort  of  place  to 
hunt." 

"No,  not  for  anything  unless  it  was  a  porcu- 
pine," said  Uncle  Dick.  "We  may  have  to 
come  to  that.  But  even  with  a  little  grub  we 
can  last  for  a  hundred  miles  or  so,  can't  we? 
Can't  we  make  forty  or  fifty  miles  a  day,  Leo?  " 

Leo  laughed  and  shook  his  head.  "Some 
day  not  make  more  than  ten  or  twelve  mile," 
said  he. 

"Well,  I  know  that  there's  a  good  deal  of 
slack  water  for  quite  a  way  below  here.  At 
least,  I  have  heard  that  that  is  the  case.  So 
for  a  time,  if  we  don't  meet  bad  head- winds, 
we  can  put  a  good  deal  of  this  coimtry  back  of 
us." 

"  Could  any  one  walk  along  these  banks  and 
get  out  to  the  settlements  at  all  if  he  were  left 
alone  in  here?"  inquired  Rob. 

"One  can  do  a  great  deal  if  he  has  to,"  said 
Uncle  Dick.  "But  I  hope  none  of  us  will  ever 
have  to  try  to  make  the  railroad  on  foot  from 
here.  There  isn't  any  trail,  and  very  often 
the  banks  are  sheer  rock  faces  nmning  into  the 
river.  Get  behind  such  a  hill,  and  you're  on 
another  slope,  and  the  first  thing  you  know 
you're  clear  away  from  the  river  and  all  tangled 

274 


HISTORY  ON  THE  GROUND 

up.  But,  still,  men  have  come  up  here  one  way 
or  another.  On  the  other  side,  there  used  to 
be  a  sort  of  pack-horse  trail  from  Revelstoke 
up  to  the  Selkirk  gold-mines.  There  are  two 
or  three  creeks  which  are  still  worked  along  the 
Big  Bend  of  the  Columbia.  When  we  engi- 
neers have  all  done  our  work  it  will  be  easier 
to  get  in  here  than  it  is  to-day." 

"Well,  I'm  going  to  be  an  engineer  some 
day,"  said  Rob,  firmly,  once  more.  "I  like 
this  work." 

"Well,  you're  all  going  to  bed  now  at  once," 
said  Uncle  Dick.  "We  must  hurry  on  down 
to-morrow,  for,  unless  I  am  mistaken,  this  roily 
water  of  the  Canoe  means  that  the  spring  rise 
has  begun  earlier  than  it  should." 


XXVI 

DOWN  THE  COLUMBIA 

THEY  did  hurry  to  embark  on  the  next 
morning,  and,  as  Uncle  Dick  had  pre- 
dicted, for  many  miles  the  river  was  much 
more  mild,  although  the  current  was  steady 
and  strong.  They  had  rim  perhaps  four  hours 
when  they  came  to  the  mouth  of  a  creek  which 
Leo  and  George  said  was  called  either  Nagel 
Creek  or  End  Creek,  they  did  not  know  which. 
They  went  ashore  for  a  time  at  a  little  im- 
finished  log  cabin  which  had  been  started  per- 
haps two  years  before  by  some  imknown  per- 
son or  persons. 

"That  way,"  said  Leo,  "up  creek  ten  mile, 
fine  bear  cotmtry;  plenty  caribou  too.  S'pose 
we  hunt?" 

"Certainly  not,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "It 
would  take  us  a  day  to  hunt  and  another  day 
to  get  back.  What  do  you  say  about  that, 
boys?" 

276 


DOWN  THE  COLUMBIA 

"Well,"  said  Rob,  "of  course  we'd  like  to 
hunt  a  little  more,  but  I  don't  myself  much 
like  the  thought  of  walking  out  of  this  country 
with  a  pack  on  my  back  and  nothing  to  eat  but 
a  little  flour.  Besides,  I've  a  feeling  that  this 
river  is  rising  all  the  time  now." 

"She'll  rise  five  inch  last  night,"  said  Moise. 
"I'll  mark  heem  on  the  stick." 

"Yes,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "the  June  rise  is 
going  to  chase  us  out,  that's  sure.  All  those 
great  snow-fields  which  you  see  up  there  on  the 
Selkirks  and  the  Rockies  have  got  to  melt  and 
come  right  down  here  where  our  boat  is  now. 
So,  Leo,  you  and  George  go  on  ahead — we'll 
rtm  late  to-night  and  make  forty  miles  to-day, 
at  least,  if  we  can.  How  far  are  we  from 
Revelstoke?" 

"S'pose  'bout  himderd  mile,"  said  Leo. 
"Long  way." 

"Not  long  if  it  was  all  clear  water  like  this. 
But  it  isn't.  A  pack-train  on  an  unknown  trail 
is  one  thing,  but  a  boat  on  an  imknown  river  is 
something  mighty  different.  As  I've  told  you, 
every  foot  of  rise  changes  the  river  absolutely 
in  the  narrows.  Therefore  all  I  can  allow  you 
for  limch  to-day  is  a  piece  of  bannock — and 
we'll  eat  that  as  we  run." 

277 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

They  found  milder  water  now  for  twenty- 
five  miles,  and  made  steady  progress.  The 
wind  had  shifted  a  little  bit,  and  Rob  managed 
to  get  assistance  out  of  it  by  rigging  a  sail  from 
a  comer  of  the  tent.  This  brought  the  lead- 
boat  ahead  so  steadily  that  Leo  and  George 
protested  and  made  Rob  take  down  his  sail. 
But  soon  the  long  reach  of  slack  water  was 
passed.  More  and  more  they  could  hear, 
coming  up-stream  from  perhaps  a  mile  ahead, 
the  low,  sullen  roar  of  rapids. 

The  water  began  to  set  faster  and  faster,  and 
seemed  each  mile  to  assume  more  and  more 
malicious  habits.  Great  boils,  coming  up 
from  some  mysterious  depth,  would  strike  the 
boat  as  though  with  a  mighty  hammer  so  hard 
as  to  make  the  boys  look  aroimd  in  consterna- 
tion. At  times  they  could  see  the  river  sink 
before  them  in  a  great  slide,  or  basin,  a  depres- 
sion perhaps  two  hundred  feet  across,  with 
white  water  at  its  edges.  Deep  boils  and 
eddies  came  up  every  now  and  then  without 
warning,  and  sometimes  the  boat  would  feel 
a  wrench,  as  though  with  some  mighty  hand 
thrust  up  from  the  water.  Their  course  was 
hardly  steady  for  more  than  a  moment  or  so  at 
a  time,  and  the  boats  required  continual  steer- 

278 


DOWN  THE  COLUMBIA 

ing.  In  fact,  it  seemed  to  them  that  never 
was  there  a  stream  so  variable  and  so  tmac- 
countable  as  this  they  were  now  descending. 

"She's  worse  than  the  Peace  River,  a  whole 
lot,"  said  Rob;  and  all  the  boys  agreed  with 
him.  In  fact,  by  this  time  all  of  them  were 
pretty  well  sobered  down  now,  for  they  could 
see  that  it  was  serious  work  which  lay  ahead 
of  them.  Now  and  again  Uncle  Dick  would 
see  the  boys  looking  at  the  black  forests 
which  covered  these  slopes  on  each  side  of 
the  river,  foaming  down  between  the  Selkirks 
and  the  Rockies. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  they  passed  a  little 
settlement  of  a  few  cabins,  where  a  discolored 
stream  came  down  into  the  river  through  a 
long  sluice-box  whose  end  was  visible. 

"This  Howard's  camp,"  shouted  Leo. 
"Them  mans  wash  gold  here.  Some  mans 
live  there  now." 

Two  or  three  men  indeed  did  come  to  the 
bank  and  wave  an  excited  greeting  as  the  boats 
swept  by.  But  there  was  no  going  ashore,  for 
directly  at  this  place  a  stretch  of  rapids  de- 
manded the  attention  of  every  one  in  the 
boats. 

And  still  Uncle  Dick  urged  the  Indians  of  the 
18  279 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

first  boat  to  go  on  as  far  as  they  could  that 
night.  They  ran  until  almost  dark,  and  made 
camp  on  the  top  of  a  high  bank  on  the  left  side 
of  the  river  where  once  an  old  limiber  camp  had 
been.  Here  they  found  the  breeze  good  and 
the  mosqtdto  nmsance  much  diminished. 

"How  far  now  to  Revelstoke,  Leo?"  in- 
quired Uncle  Dick,  as  they  sat  at  their  frugal 
supper  that  night. 

"Maybe-so  forty  mile,  maybe-so  sixty," 
said  Leo. 

"Can  we  make  it  in  one  day?" 

Leo  shook  his  head  soberly. 

"Two  days?" 

Leo  shook  his  head. 

"Three  days?" 

"  Maybe-so,"  said  he,  at  last.  "  Plenty  bad 
water  below  here,"  said  he. 

"Well,  I  haven't  seen  any  of  these  awful 
canons  yet  that  you've  been  telling  about," 
said  John. 

Leo  smiled.  "To-morrow  see  'um  plenty," 
said  he.  "Pretty  soon  come  Death  Eddy, 
then  Death  Canon,  then  Death  Rapids,  then 
Priest  Rapids.  All  them  bad  places.  Maybe- 
so  can't  rim,  water  too  high." 

"We'll  not  get  out  of  here  any  too  soon, 
280 


DOWN  THE  COLUMBIA 

that's  sure,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "The  best 
time  to  run  any  of  these  mountain  rivers  is  in 
the  fall,  for  then  the  water  is  lowest.  But  a 
day  or  two  more  will  tell  the  tale  for  us.  So, 
Moise,  please  don't  starve  us  any  more  than 
you  have  to — I  could  eat  a  whole  porcupine 
now  myself  if  I  had  one." 

That  night  at  the  fireside  Uncle  Dick  saw 
the  boys  bending  over  close  together,  and 
looked  at  them  curiously,  for  they  seemed  to  be 
writing.  , 

"What's  up,  young  men?"  said  he. 

"Well,  we're  making  our  wills,"  said  Rob. 
"We  haven't  got  much  to  give  to  anybody,  of 
course,  but  you  know,  in  case  of  any  accident, 
we  thought  the  folks  ought  to  know  about  it. 
Not  that  we're  afraid.  I  was  just  thinking 
that  so  many  people  were  lost  here  that  never 
were  heard  of  again." 

Uncle  Dick  did  not  smile  at  Rob's  frank  con- 
fession, but  liked  the  boys  all  the  more  for  it. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "that's  all  right,  too.  I'm 
willing  to  admit  that  when  I  ran  the  Rock 
Canon  above  the  Boat  Encampment  last  year 
I  did  a  little  writing  myself  and  put  it  in  my 
pocket,  and  I  tied  one  leg  to  the  boat  with  a 
rope,   too.     But  please  don't  be  too  much 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE  ROCKIES 

alarmed  over  anjrthing  we've  said,  for  if  the 
canons  should  prove  too  bad  we  will  line 
down  with  the  boat;  and  if  we  can't  line  down, 
then  we  will  all  take  to  the  woods." 

None  the  less,  the  boys  were  all  very  quiet 
that  night  and  slept  but  little. 

"I  don't  like  that  water  at  all,"  whispered 
Jesse  to  John.  "You  can  hear  it  growling 
and  groaning  all  night  long,  as  though  it  were 
gnashing  its  teeth — I  don't  like  it  at  all." 

And,  indeed,  even  on  top  of  their  high  bank 
they  could  hear  the  strange  noises  that  come 
up  always  from  the  Coltimbia  River  when  the 
high  water  is  on.  The  stream  where  they  were 
encamped  was  several  hundred  yards  in  width, 
but  now  the  run-off  waters  of  the  mighty  snow- 
sheds  were  making  the  river  each  day  more 
and  more  a  torrent,  full  of  danger  even  for 
experienced  men. 


XXVII 

ON   THE   RAPIDS 

IT  was  cool  that  night,  almost  cool  enough 
for  frost,  and  the  morning  was  chill  when 
they  rolled  out  of  their  blankets.  A  heavy- 
mist  rose  from  over  the  river,  and  while  this 
obtained  Leo  refused  to  attempt  to  go  on.  So 
they  lost  a  little  time  after  breakfast  before 
the  stm  had  broken  up  the  mist  enough  to 
make  it  safe  to  venture  on  the  river.  They 
were  off  at  about  nine  o'clock  perhaps,  plung- 
ing at  once  into  three  or  four  miles  of  very  fast 
water. 

The  boats  now  kept  close  together,  and 
at  times  they  landed,  so  that  their  leaders 
could  go  ahead  and  spy  out  the  water  around 
the  bend.  In  making  these  landings  with 
heavy  boats,  as  the  boys  observed,  the  men 
would  always  let  the  stem  swing  around  and 
then  paddle  up-streami,  so  that  the  landing 
was  made  with  the  bow  up-stream.  The 
force  of  the  river  would  very  likely  have  cap- 
,     283 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

sized  the  boat  if  a  landing  were  attempted  with 
the  bow  down-stream.  '  *  Just  like  a  steamboat- 
landing,"  said  Jesse. 

Leo  himself  was"^ now  very  alert.  He  did  not 
say  a  word  to  anybody,  but  kept  his  eyes  on 
ahead  as  though  he  felt  himself  to  be  the  re- 
sponsible man  of  the  party.  Certainly  he 
took  every  precaution  and  proved  himself  a 
wonderful  riverman.  But  he  seemed  puzzled 
at  last  as,  when  they  landed  upon  a  beach,  he 
turned  toward  Uncle  Dick. 

"Me  no  imderstand!"  said  he.  "Death 
Eddy  up  there,  but  no  see  'um!" 

"What  do  you  mean,  Leo?" 

"Well,  Death  Eddy  up  there,  and  we  come 
through,  but  no  see  'imi!  I  s'pose  maybe 
high  water  has  change'.     I  go  look  ahead." 

He  went  down  the  stream  for  a  little  way 
until  he  could  see  into  the  next  bend,  but  came 
back  shaking  his  head. 

"No  can  make  that  canon,"  said  he. 
"Water  she's  too  high — bad,  very  bad  in  there 
now.     Must  line  down." 

"What  place  did  you  call  this,  Leo?"  in- 
quired Uncle  Dick. 

"Call  'um  Methodist  Cafion.  Low  water 
she's  all  right,  now  she's  bad." 

284 


ON  THE   RAPIDS 

"Out  you  go,  boys,"  said  Uncle  Dick. 
''We've  got  to  line  through.     How  far,  Leo?" 

"Maybe-so  one  mile,"  rejoined  the  Indian. 
"  S'pose  low  water,  we  paddle  through  here  all 
right!" 

Uncle  Dick  sighed.  "Well,  I  hate  to  take 
the  time,  but  I  suppose  that's  what  we'll  have 
to  do.  You  boys  go  on  along  the  shore  the 
best  you  can,  while  we  let  the  boats  down." 

The  boys  struggled  up  now  on  the  side  of  the 
shelving  beach,  which  was  nothing  but  a  mass 
of  heavy  rock  that  had  rolled  down  from  the 
mountainsides.  It  was  a  wild  scene  enough, 
and  the  roar  of  the  waters  as  they  crashed 
through  this  narrow  pass  added  to  the  oppres- 
sive quality  of  it. 

After  a  time  the  water  became  so  bad  even 
close  to  shore  that  it  was  impossible  to  let 
the  boat  down  on  the  line  without  danger  of 
swamping  it.  So  each  boat  was  lifted  out  bod- 
ily and  carried  out  along  the  beach  for  two  or 
three  hundred  yards  until  it  was  safe  to  launch 
it  again.  Part  of  the  time  the  men  were  in 
and  part  of  the  time  out  of  the  water,  guiding 
the  boats  among  the  boulders  which  lay  along 
the  edge. 

To  make  a  mile  at  this  work  took  as  much 
285 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

time  as  twenty  miles  had  the  day  before,  and 
they  were  glad  enough  when  Moise  proposed  to 
boil  the  kettle.  They  did  this  just  above  the 
head  of  Death  Rapids,  in  a  very  wild  and  beau- 
tiful spot.  Just  across  the  river  from  them 
they  could  see  a  beautiful  cascade  some  two 
or  three  hundred  feet  in  height,  and  they  chris- 
tened this  the  Lottie  Falls,  after  a  sister  of 
Uncle  Dick,  which  name  it  has  to-day.  Now 
and  again  the  boys  would  look  down  the  rag- 
ing stream  ahead  of  them,  wondering  that  any 
man  should  ever  have  tried  to  run  such  a  rapid. 

"Hunderd  sixty  men  drown  right  here,  so 
they  say,"  commented  Leo.  He  pointed  out 
to  them  the  most  dangerous  part  of  the  Death 
Rapids,  where  the  strong  current,  running 
down  in  a  long  V,  ended  at  the  foot  of  the 
rapids  in  a  deep,  back-curving  roller  or  "cellar- 
door"  wave,  sure  to  swamp  any  boat  or  to 
sweep  over  any  raft. 

"  S  'pose  raft  go  through  there,  round  bend," 
said  Leo,  "it  must  go  down  there  in  that  big 
wave.  Then  her  nose  go  under  wave,  and  raft 
she  sink,  and  all  mans  come  off  in  the  water. 
No  can  swim.  No  can  hang  on  raft.  Many 
men  drowned  there.  Plenty  Chinaman  he'll 
get  drowned  there,  time  my  father  was  young 

a86 


ON  THE   RAPIDS 

man.  Chinaman  no  can  swim,  no  can  paddle, 
no  can  ron  on  land — no  good.  All  he  do  is 
drown." 

"Well,  one  thing  is  sure,"  said  Uncle  Dick. 
"I'll  not  try  that  rapid,  even  with  our  boats, 
to-day.     We'll  just  line  on  down  past  here." 

"Plenty  glad  we  didn't  stop  hunt  grizzlum 
no  more,"  said  Leo.  "She's  come  up  all  day 
long." 

Soon  they  resumed  their  slow  progress,  let- 
ting the  boats  down,  foot  by  foot,  along  the 
shore,  usually  three  or  four  men  holding  to  the 
one  line,  and  then  returning  for  the  other  boat 
after  a  time.  Moise  did  not  like  this  heavy 
work  at  all. 

"This  boat  she's  too  big,"  said  he.  "She 
pull  like  three,  four  oxens.  I  like  small  little 
canoe  more  better,  heem." 

"Well,"  said  Rob,  "you  can't  get  a  boat  that 
looks  too  big  for  me  in  here.  Look  over  there 
at  that  water — where  would  any  canoe  be  out 
there?" 

Thus,  with  very  little  actual  running,  and 
with  the  boys  on  foot  all  the  way,  they  went 
on  until  at  length  they  heard  coming  up  from 
below  them  the  roar  of  a  rapid  which  sounded 
especially  threatening. 

287 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

' '  Priest  Rapids ! ' '  said  Leo.  ' '  And  he's  bad 
this  time  too." 

"Why  do  they  call  this  the  Priest  Rapids, 
Leo?"  inquired  Rob. 

"I  don'  know,"  said  Leo. 

"That's  a  fact,"  added  uncle  Dick.  "No 
one  seems  to  know  why  these  were  called  the 
Priest  Rapids.  Perhaps  because  a  priest  read 
the  burial  service  over  some  of  the  voyageurs 
here.  Perhaps  because  a  priest  was  saved 
here,  or  drowned  here  —  no  one  seems  to 
know." 

They  had  called  a  halt  here  while  Leo  and 
Moise  walked  up  on  the  bank  to  reach  a  higher 
point  of  view.  The  boys  could  see  them  now, 
gesticulating  and  pointing  out  across  the  river. 
Presently  they  joined  the  others. 

"She's  too  bad  for  ron  this  side,"  said 
Moise,  "but  over  on  other  side,  two-third 
way  across,  is  place  where  mans  can  get 
through.  No  can  line  on  this  side — rock,  she 
come  straight  down  on  the  river." 

"Well,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "here  is  a  pretty 
kettle  of  fish !  I  don't  like  the  looks  of  this  in 
the  least.  I'm  not  going  to  try  to  take  these 
boys  through  that  rapid  over  there.  Are  you 
sure  you  can't  line  down  on  this  side?" 


ON  THE   RAPIDS 

"No  can  walk,"  said  Leo,  "no  can  ron  this 
side.  Other  side  only  place  for  to  go  through. 
She's  pretty  bad,  but  may  be-so  make  'um." 

"Well,  I'm  not  going  to  let  the  boys  try  it," 
said  Uncle  Dick.  "Now  see  here,  young  men, 
I'll  tell  you  what  you  have  got  to  do.  You 
see  that  point  below  there  about  two  miles, 
where  the  forest  comes  out?  Very  well;  you'll 
have  to  get  around  there  somehow.  Go  back 
of  that  shelving  rock  face  the  best  you  can,  and 
come  out  on  that  point,  and  wait  for  us." 

The  boys  looked  at  him  rather  soberly. 
"Why  can't  we  go  with  you,"  asked  John,  pres- 
ently, who  did  not  in  the  least  fancy  the  look 
of  these  dark  woods  and  the  heavy,  frowning 
mountains  that  lay  back  of  them.  Indeed, 
they  all  reflected  that  here  they  were  many  a 
day's  march  from  Revelstoke,  over  a  country 
practically  impassable. 

"You  couldn't  go  in  the  boats,  boys,  even 
if  it  were  safe,"  said  Uncle  Dick.  "We  want 
them  light  as  we  can  have  them.  Go  on  now, 
and  do  as  you  are  told.  This  is  a  place  where 
we  all  of  us  will  have  to  take  a  chance,  and  now 
your  time  has  come  to  take  your  chances,  for 
it's  the  best  that  we  can  do.  Each  of  you 
take  a  little  pack — one  rifle  will  do  for  you, 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

but  each  of  you  must  have  his  ax  and  matches 
and  compass  and  a  Httle  something  to  eat — 
here,  take  all  the  bannocks  we  have  cooked, 
and  this  little  bit  of  flour.  When  you  get  to 
the  point  make  a  smoke  to  let  us  know  you're 
there.  If  we  don't  get  through  you'll  have  to 
get  on  the  best  way  you  can." 

"Why  can't  one  of  you  go  with  us?"  in- 
quired John,  still  anxiously. 

"It  wouldn't  be  right  for  the  men  left  in  the 
boat — it  takes  two  men  to  run  a  boat  through 
water  like  that,  my  boy.  Go  on,  now.  I  am 
sorry  to  send  you  off,  but  this  is  the  best  that 
we  can  do,  so  you  must  undertake  it  like  men." 

"It's  all  right,  fellows,"  said  Rob;  "come 
on.  We  can  get  aroimd  there,  I'm  sure,  and 
I'm  pretty  sure  too  that  these  men,  good 
boatmen  that  they  are,  will  run  that  chute. 
You're  not  afraid,  are  you,  Leo?" 

But  if  Leo  heard  him  he  said  nothing  in 
answer,  although  he  made  ready  by  stripping 
off  his  coat  and  tightening  his  belt,  in  which 
Moise  and  all  the  others  followed  him. 

The  boys  turned  for  some  time,  looking  back 
before  they  were  lost  to  view  in  the  forest. 
The  men  were  still  sitting  on  the  beach,  caknly 
smoking  and  giving  them  time  to  make  their 

290 


ON  THE   RAPIDS 

detour  before  they  themselves  attempted  the 
dangerous  run  of  the  rapids. 

It  was  perhaps  an  hour  before  the  three 
young  adventurers  were  able  to  climb  the 
rugged  slope  which  lay  before  them,  and  finally 
to  descend  a  bad  rock  wall  which  allowed  them 
access  to  the  long  point  which  Uncle  Dick  had 
pointed  out  to  them,  far  below  and  at  one  side 
of  the  dreaded  Priest  Rapids.  Here  they 
built  their  little  fire  of  driftwood,  as  they  had 
been  instructed;  and,  climbing  up  on  another 
pile  of  driftwood  which  was  massed  on  the 
beach,  they  began  eagerly  to  look  up-stream. 

"The  worst  waves  are  over  on  the  other 
side,"  said  Rob,  after  a  time.  "Look,  I  can 
see  them  now —  they  look  mighty  little — that's 
the  boats  angling  across  from  where  we  left 
them!  It  '11  soon  be  over  now,  one  way  or 
the  other." 

They  all  stood  looking  anxiously.  * '  They're 
out  of  sight!"  exclaimed  Rob.  And  so,  in- 
deed, they  were, 

"That's  only  the  dip  they've  taken,"  said 
Rob,  after  a  time.  "I  see  them  coming  now. 
Look !  Look  at  them  come !  I  believe  they're 
through." 

They  stood  looking  for  a  little  time,  and 
291 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

then  all  took  off  their  hats  and  waved  them 
with  a  yell.  They  could  see  the  boats  now 
plunging  on  down,  rising  and  falling,  but  grow- 
ing larger  and  blacker  every  instant.  At  last 
they  could  see  them  outlined  against  the  dis- 
tant white,  rolling  waves,  and  knew  that  they 
were  through  the  end  of  the  chute  and  prac- 
tically safe. 

In  a  few  moments  more  the  two  boats  came 
on,  racing  by  their  point,  all  the  men  so  busy 
that  they  had  not  time  to  catch  the  excited 
greetings  which  the  boys  shouted  to  them. 
But  once  aroimd  the  point  the  boats  swung  in 
sharply,  and  soon,  bow  up  -  stream,  made  a 
landing  but  a  few  hundred  yards  below  where 
they  stood.  Soon  they  were  all  united  once 
more,  shaking  hands  warmly  with  one  another. 

"That's  great ! "  said  Uncle  Dick.  "I'll  war- 
rant there  was  one  swell  there  over  fifteen  feet 
high— maybe  twenty,  for  all  we  could  tell.  I 
know  it  reared  up  clear  above  us,  so  that  you 
had  to  lean  your  head  to  see  the  top  of  it.  If 
we'd  hit  it  would  have  been  all  over  with  us." 

"She's  bad  tam,  young  men,"  said  Moise. 
"From  where  we  see  him  she  don't  look  so  bad, 
but  once  you  get  in  there — poom!  Well,  any- 
way, here  we  are.     That's  more  better 'n  get- 

292 


ON  THE   RAPIDS 

ting  drowned,  and  more  better 'n  walk,  too." 
And  Moise,  the  light-hearted,  used  to  taking 
chances,  dismissed  the  danger  once  it  was  past. 

"Well,  that's  what  I  call  good  planning  and 
good  work,"  said  Rob,  quietly,  after  a  while. 
' '  To  find  the  best  thing  to  do  and  then  to  do  it 
— that  seems  to  be  the  way  for  an  engineer  to 
work,  isn't  it.  Uncle  Dick?" 

"Yes,  it  is,  and  all's  well  that  ends  well," 
commented  the  other.  "And  mighty  glad  I 
am  to  think  that  we  are  safe  together  again, 
and  that  you  don't  have  to  try  to  make  your 
way  alone  and  on  foot  from  this  part  of  the 
country.  I  wasn't  happy  at  all  when  I  thought 
of  that." 

"And  we  weren't  happy  at  all  imtil  we  saw 
you  safely  through  that  chute,  either,"  said 
Rob. 

"Now,"  resumed  the  leader,  "how  far  is  it 
to  a  good  camping-place,  Leo?  We'll  want  to 
rest  a  while  to-night." 

"Good  camp  three  mile  down,"  said  Leo, 
"on  high  bank." 

'  'And  how  far  have  we  come  to-day,  or  will 
we  have  come  by  that  time?" 

"Not  far,"  said  Leo;  "  'bout  ten  mile  all." 

Uncle  Dick  sighed.  "Well,  we're  all  tired, 
293 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

so  let's  go  into  camp  early  to-night,  and  hold 
ourselves  lucky  that  we  can  camp  together, 
too.  Maybe  we'd  better  bail  out  first — it's 
lucky,  for  we  only  took  in  three  or  fpur  pails  of 
water  apiece." 

"No  man  I  ever  know  come  through  Priest 
Rapids  on  the  high  water  like  this,"  said  Leo. 
"That's  good  fun."  And  he  and  George 
grinned  happily  at  each  other. 

They  pulled  on  in  more  leisurely  fashion 
now,  and  soon  reached  the  foot  of  a  high  grassy 
bluif  on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  river.  They 
climbed  the  steep  slope  here,  and  so  weary 
were  they  that  that  night  they  did  not  put  up 
the  tents  at  all,  but  lay  down,  each  wrapped 
in  his  blanket,  as  soon  as  they  had  completed 
their  scanty  supper. 

"Better  get  home  pretty  soon  now,"  said 
Moise.  "No  sugar  no  more.  No  baking- 
powder  no  more.  Pretty  soon  no  pork,  and 
flour,  she's  'most  gone,  too." 


XXVIII 

IN  SIGHT  OF   SAFETY 

ONCE  more,  as  had  now  been  their  custom 
for  several  days,  in  their  anxiety  to  get  as 
far  forward  as  possible  each  day,  our  party  arose 
before  dawn.  If  truth  were  told,  perhaps  few 
of  them  had  slept  soundly  the  night  through, 
and  as  they  went  about  their  morning  duties 
they  spoke  but  little.  They  realized  that, 
though  many  of  their  dangers  now  might  be 
called  past,  perhaps  the  worst  of  them,  in- 
deed, they  still  were  not  quite  out  of  the 
woods. 

Moise,  who  had  each  night  left  a  water-mark, 
reported  that  the  river  during  the  night  had 
risen  nearly  a  foot.  Even  feeling  as  they  did 
that  the  worst  of  the  rapids  were  passed,  the 
leaders  of  the  party  were  a  trifle  anxious  over 
this  report,  Leo  not  less  than  the  others,  for 
he  well  remembered  how  the  rising  waters  had 
wiped  out  such  places  as  the  Death  Eddy, 

19  295 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

which  once  he  had  known  famiHarly.  They 
all  knew  that  the  rise  of  a  foot  here  in  the 
broader  parts  of  the  river  would  mean  serious 
trouble  in  any  canon. 

"How  far  now,  Leo?"  asked  John  once 
more  of  the  Indian  guide,  on  whom  they  placed 
their  main  reliance. 

"Maybe-so  forty  mile,  maybe  fifty,"  said 
Leo.  "Maybe  not  run  far  now.  Down  there 
ten  mile,  come  Tom  Boyd  farm.  Steamboat 
come  there  maybe.  Then  can  go  home  on 
steamboat,  suppose  our  boat  is  bust." 

"Well,  the  Brojtco  isn't  quite  busted,"  said 
Uncle  Dick,  "but  she  has  sprung  something 
of  a  leak,  and  we'll  have  to  do  a  little  calk- 
ing before  we  can  start  out  with  her  this 
morning.  Come  on,  Moise,  let's  see  what  we 
can  do." 

So  saying,  they  two  went  down  to  repair  an 
injury  which  one  of  the  boats  had  sustained  on 
a  rock.  Of  course,  in  this  lining  down,  with 
the  boats  close  inshore  in  the  shallower  water, 
they  often  came  in  contact  with  the  rocks,  so 
that,  although  both  the  boats  were  practically 
new,  the  bottom  boards  were  now  ragged  and 
furry.  A  long  crack  in  the  side  of  the  Bronco 
showed  the  force  with  which  a  boat  some- 

296 


IN  SIGHT  OF  SAFETY 

times  could  be  driven  by  ttie  swift  current, 
even  when  the  men  were  taking  the  best  of 
care  to  keep  it  off  the  rocks. 

"Leo  doesn't  tell  much  about  his  plans, 
does  he?"  remarked  Rob.  "I  was  thinking 
all  the  time  we'd  have  to  run  the  whole  fifty 
miles  to  Revelstoke." 

Uncle  Dick  laughed.  "  Leo  believes  in  sav- 
ing labor  even  in  talking,"  said  he,  "but  I 
am  not  complaining,  for  he  has  brought  us 
this  far  in  safety.  I'm  willing  to  say  he's  as 
good  a  boatman  as  I  ever  saw,  and  more  care- 
ful than  I  feared  he  would  be.  Most  of  these 
Indians  are  too  lazy  to  line  down,  and  will 
take  all  sorts  of  chances  to  save  a  little  work. 
But  I  must  say  Leo  has  been  careful.  It  has 
been  very  rarely  we've  even  shipped  a  little 
bit  of  water." 

"One  thing,"  said  John,  "we  haven't  got 
much  left  to  get  wet,  so  far  as  grub's  concerned. 
I'm  pretty  near  ready  to  go  out  hunting  por- 
cupines or  gophers,  for  flour  and  tea  and  a 
little  bacon  rind  leave  a  fellow  rather  himgry. 
But  I'm  mighty  glad.  Uncle  Dick,  that  you 
came  through  that  rapid  all  right  with  the 
boats  and  found  us  all  right  afterward.  Sup- 
pose we  had  got  separated  up  there  in  some 

297 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

way  and  you  had  gone  by  us,  thinking  that 
we  were  lower  down — ^what  would  you  have 
done  in  that  case — suppose  we  had  all  the 
grub?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  replied  his  uncle,  "but 
I  fancy  we'd  have  got  through  somehow.  Men 
have  done  that  in  harder  circumstances.  Think 
of  those  chaps  Milton  and  Cheadle  we  were 
talking  of  the  other  night ;  they  were  in  worse 
shape  than  we  were,  for  they  had  no  idea 
where  they  were  or  how  far  it  was  to  safety,  or 
how  they  were  to  get  there,  and  they  had  no 
guide  who  had  ever  been  across  the  country. 
Now,  although  we  have  been  in  a  dangerous 
country  for  some  days,  we  know  perfectly 
where  we  are  and  how  far  it  is  to  a  settlement. 
The  trail  out  is  plain,  or  at  least  the  direction 
is  plain." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  we  didn't  have  to  try  to  get 
out  alone,  just  the  same." 

"And  so  am  I,  but  I  believe  that  even  if 
you  had  been  left  alone  you'd  have  made  it 
out  some  way.  You  had  a  rifle,  and,  although 
game  is  not  plentiful  in  the  heavy  forest,  you 
very  likely  would  have  found  a  porcupine  now 
and  then — that  is  to  say,  a  porcupine  would 
very  likely  have  found  you,  for  they  are  very 

298 


IN  SIGHT  OF  SAFETY 

apt  to  prowl  about  the  camp  almost  anywhere 
in  this  country.  You  wouldn't  even  have 
been  obliged  to  make  a  noise  like  a  porcupine 
if  you  had  used  anything  greasy  around  your 
cooking  or  left  any  scraps  where  they  could 
get  at  them.  Or  you  might  even  have  tried 
eating  a  little  pine  bark,  the  way  the  porcu- 
pines do.  Again,  in  almost  any  clearing  this 
far  down  to  the  south  you  might  have  run 
across  some  of  these  gophers  which  you  have 
seen  on  the  grassy  banks  lately.  Not  that  I 
would  care  to  eat  gopher  myself,  for  they  look 
like  prairie-dog,  and  I  never  did  like  prairie- 
dog  to  eat.  Besides,  they  tell  bad  stories 
about  these  mountain  gophers;  I've  heard 
that  the  spotted  fever  of  the  mountains,  a  very 
deadly  disease,  is  only  found  in  a  gopher  coun- 
try; so  I'm  very  glad  you  did  not  have  to  re- 
sort to  that  sort  of  diet." 

"We  might  get  some  goats  back  there  in 
the  mountains  if  we  had  to,"  said  Rob,  "but 
goat-hunting  is  hard  work,  and  I  don't  sup- 
pose a  fellow  would  last  long  at  it  on  light 
diet." 

"Well,  I  wish  we  had  one  or  two  of  those  kids 
that  we  left  up  on  the  mountain  at  Yellowhead 
Lake,"  said  John.     "  Moise  says  a  goat  kid  is 

299 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE  ROCKIES 

just  as  good  to  eat  as  any  kind  of  meat.  And 
any  kind  of  meat  would  be  better  than  bacon 
rind  to  chew  on." 

"Never  mind,  John,"  said  Rob;  "we  could 
go  two  days  without  anything  to  eat  if  we  had 
to,  and  in  two  days,  at  least,  we'll  be  where 
you  can  get  as  square  a  meal  as  you  like. 
Maybe  even  to-day  we'll  land  where  we  can 
get  supplies,  although  Leo  doesn't  seem  to  tell 
us  very  much  about  things  on  ahead." 

Leo  and  his  silent  but  hard-working  cousin 
George  now  came  down  to  the  waterside  and 
signified  that  it  was  time  to  start  off,  as  by 
this  time  the  sun  had  cleared  the  mists  from 
the  river.  As  the  light  strengthened,  they 
could  see  that  the  river  had  lost  something  of 
its  deep  blue  or  green  color  and  taken  on  a 
tawny  hue,  which  spoke  all  too  plainly  of  the 
flood -waters  coming  down  from  the  snow-fields 
through  the  many  creeks  they  had  passed  on 
both  sides  of  the  river. 

It  took  but  a  few  moments  now  for  them  to 
embark,  and  soon  they  were  plying  their  pad- 
dles once  more  and  passing  swiftly  down  the 
great  river.  Although  they  knew  Leo  was  not 
very  loquacious,  and  so  not  apt  to  say  much 
of  dangers  on  ahead,  the  general  feeling  of  all 

300 


IN  SIGHT  OF  SAFETY 

the  others  was  that  the  worst  of  their  route 
had  been  traversed  and  that  now  they  were  in 
close  touch  with  civihzation. 

They  were  moving  along  steadily  in  the 
bright,  warm  simlight,  and  John  and  Rob 
were  assisting  with  paddles  on  each  side  of  the 
boat,  when  all  at  once  they  saw  the  lead-boat 
leave  the  center  of  the  channel  and  shoot  to 
the  left  toward  a  high  bluff,  which,  they  could 
see,  was  surmoimted  by  several  buildings. 

"What's  the  matter?"  said  Jesse.  "Rapids 
on  ahead?" 

"No,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "not  rapids,  but 
houses  and  bams!  This  must  be  the  Boyd 
farm,  and,  if  so,  we're  very  likely  done  with  our 
boating.  Heave  ho,  then,  my  hearties,  and 
let's  see  how  fast  we  can  paddle!" 

They  pulled  up  presently  at  the  foot  of  the 
bluff,  where  Leo  and  George  lay  waiting  for 
them. 

"Hallo,  Leo!  What  place  is  this?"  called 
Jesse. 

"This  Sam  Boyd  farm.  Steamboat  come 
here  —  not  go  more  higher,"  answered  Leo. 
He  steadied  the  bow  of  the  Bronco  as  they 
swung  in,  and  soon  all  were  standing  on  the 
shore. 

301 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

"Plenty  house  here,  plenty  farm — trail  up 
there,  all  way  to  Revelstruck,"  said  Leo. 

The  boys  looked  at  their  boat  and  at  the 
river,  and  then  gazed  up  the  bank,  at  the  sum- 
mit of  which,  as  they  now  learned,  lay  what 
might  be  called  the  skirmish-line  of  civilization, 
the  point  which  practically  ended  their  adven- 
tures. A  feeling  of  regret  and  disappoint- 
ment came  over  them  all,  which  was  reflected 
in  their  countenances  as  they  turned  toward 
their  leader. 

"I  know  how  you  feel,  boys,"  said  their 
uncle,  "for  I  never  want  to  leave  the  woods 
myself.  But  we'll  go  up  and  have  a  look  over 
things,  and  find  out  maybe  more  than  Leo  has 
told  us  about  our  plans." 


XXIX 

STORIES   OF   THE   COLUMBIA 

WHEN  they  had  climbed  to  the  top  of 
the  highest  bank  they  saw  before  them 
a  clearing  of  over  two  hundred  acres,  a  part  of 
which  had  been  made  into  a  hay-field.  Im- 
mediately in  front  of  them  was  a  yard  full  of 
beautiful  flowers,  kept  as  well  as  any  flower- 
garden  in  the  cities.  To  the  left  lay  a  series  of 
bams  and  sheds,  and  near  by  was  a  vegetable- 
garden  in  which  small  green  things  already 
were  beginning  to  show. 

"Well,  what  do  you  know  about  this?" 
demanded  John.  "It  looks  as  though  we  cer- 
tainly had  got  to  where  people  live  at  last. 
This  is  the  finest  place  we've  seen  in  many  a 
day,  and  I'll  bet  we  can  get  something  to  eat 
here,  too." 

Leo  raised  a  shout,  which  presently  brought 
out  of  the  house  a  man  who  proved  to  be  the 
caretaker  of  the  place,  a  well-seasoned  outdoor 

303 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

character  by  name  of  O'Brien.  He  advanced 
now  and  made  them  welcome. 

"Come  in,  come  in,"  said  he,  "and  tell  me 
who  ye  may  be  and  where  ye  come  from?  Is 
it  you,  Leo?  I  thought  you  were  at  the  Cache, 
far  above." 

"We  all  were  there  a  few  days  ago,"  replied 
the  leader  of  the  party.  "We  engaged  Leo  to 
bring  us  down  the  Canoe  and  the  Columbia, 
and  out  to  Revelstoke — ^we've  crossed  the 
mountains  at  the  Yellowhead  Pass,  coming 
west  from  Edmonton  by  pack-train." 

"Ye're  jokin',  man!"  rejoined  O'Brien. 
"Shure,  ye'll  not  be  tellin'  me  those  boys 
came  all  that  way?" 

"Him  did,"  said  Leo,  with  almost  his  first 
word  of  praise.  "Boys  all  right.  Kill  'um 
grizzlum.     Not  scare'  of  rapid." 

They  went  on  now  to  explain  to  O'Brien 
more  details  of  their  journey  and  its  more  ex- 
citing incidents,  including  the  hunt  for  the 
grizzlies  and  the  still  more  dangerous  experi- 
ences on  the  rapids.  O'Brien  listened  with 
considerable  amazement. 

"But  I  know  Leo,"  he  added,  "and  he'll  go 
annywheres  in  a  boat.  'Tis  not  the  first  time 
he's  run  this  river,  bad  cess  to  her!     But  come 

304 


STORIES  OF  THE  COLUMBIA 

in  the  house  now,  and  I'll  be  gettin'  ye  some- 
thing to  eat,  for  belike  ye're  hungry." 

"We  are  frankly  and  thoroughly  hungry," 
said  Uncle  Dick,  "  especially  John  here,  who  is 
hungry  most  of  the  time.  We've  reached 
your  place  just  as  our  grub  was  about  gone. 
Can  we  stock  up  with  you  a  little  bit,  O'Brien  ?" 

"Shure,  if  ye  need  to.  But  why  not  take 
passage  on  the  steamer — she's  due  this  after- 
noon at  three  o'clock,  and  she's  goin'  down 
to-morrow.  Ye  see,  we  run  a  wood-yard  here, 
for  the  steamboat  company  owns  this  farm 
now,  and  I'm  takin*  care  of  it  for  them." 

"What  do  you  say,  boys?"  asked  their 
leader.  "Shall  we  make  it  on  down?  Or 
shall  we  take  to  the  steamer  and  leave  our 
boats  here?" 

"Better  take  to  the  steamboat,"  said  O'Brien, 
"True,  ye  could  get  down  mayhap  to  the  head 
of  Revelstoke  Cafion  all  right,  but  then  ye'd 
have  to  walk  in  about  five  miles  annyway. 
The  steamer  can't  nm  the  canon  herself,  for 
that  matter,  and  no  boat  should  try  it  at  this 
stage,  nor  anny  other  stage,  fer  all  that.  She's 
a  murderer,  this  old  river,  that's  what  she  is." 

Leo  and  Moise  now  helped  O'Brien  with  his 
preparation  of  the  meal,  so  that  in  a  little 

305 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

time  they  were  all  sitting  on  real  chairs  and 
at  a  real  table,  with  a  real  oil -cloth  cover — the 
first  of  such  things  they  had  seen  for  many  a 
day.  Their  own  tin  dishes  they  left  in  their 
boats,  and  ate  from  china,  coarse  but  clean. 
Their  meal  was  well  cooked  and  abimdant, 
and  O'Brien  gave  them  with  a  certain  pride 
some  fresh  rhubarb,  raised  in  a  hotbed  of  his 
own,  and  also  fried  eggs. 

"Wait  a  little,"  said  he,  "  and  I'll  give  ye 
new  potatoes  and  all  sorts  o'  things.  'Tis  a 
good  farm  we  have  here." 

"But  how  came  you  to  have  a  farm  like  this, 
up  here  in  the  Selkirks?"  inquired  Rob. 

"Well,  you  see,"  answered  O'Brien,  "there's 
quite  a  bit  of  gold-mining  up  here,  and  has 
been  more.  Those  camps  at  the  gold-creeks 
above  here  all  needed  supplies,  and  they  used 
to  pack  them  in — the  pack-trail's  right  back 
of  our  bam  yonder.  But  Sam  Boyd  knew 
that  every  pound  of  hay  and  other  stuff  he 
raised  fifty  miles  north  of  Revelstoke  was  that 
much  closer  to  the  market.  This  was  his 
farm,  you  know — till  the  river  got  him,  as  she 
will  every  one  who  lives  along  her,  in  time. 

"Ye  see,  Sam  was  the  mail-carrier  here,  be- 
tween Revelstoke  and  the  camps  above,  and, 

306 


STORIES  OF  THE  COLUMBIA 

as  the  trail  is  a  horror,  he  mostly  went  by 
boat.  His  partner  was  Tom  Horn,  a  good 
riverman  too,  and  the  two  of  them  in  their 
canoe  went  up  and  down  together  marmy  a 
trip.  'Twas  a  careful  man  he  was,  too,  Sam, 
and  no  coward.  But  one  time,  to  save  them 
a  little  walk,  I  suppose,  they  concluded  to  run 
the  Revelstoke  Canon.  Well,  they  never  got 
through,  and  what  became  of  them  no  one 
knows,  except  that  their  boat  came  through  in 
bits.  Ye  're  lucky  this  fellow  Leo  didn't  want 
to  run  ye  all  through  there,  with  the  fine  big 
boats  ye've  got  below.  But  at  least  Sam  and 
Tom  never  made  it  through. 

"Well,  the  old  river  got  them,  as  she  has  so 
manny .  Sam's  widow  lived  on  here  fer  a  time, 
then  went  to  town  and  died  there,  and  the 
company  took  the  farm.  They  have  a  Chink 
to  keep  Mrs.  Boyd's  flower-garden  going  the 
way  she  did  before,  for  the  boys  all  liked  it  in 
the  mines.  And  back  in  the  woods  is  a  whole 
bunch  of  Chinks,  wood-cutters  that  supplies 
the  boats.  When  my  Chink  is  done  his  gar- 
denin*  I  make  him  hoe  my  vegetables  fer 
me. 

"So  ye're  grizzly-himters,  are  ye,  all  of  ye?" 
continued  O'Brien.     "And  not  afraid  to  take 

307 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

yer  own  life  in  your  hands?  'Tis  well,  and 
anny  man  must  learn  that  who  goes  into  the 
wilds.  But  manny  a  tale  I  could  tell  ye  of 
bould  and  brave  men  who've  not  been  able  to 
beat  this  old  river  here.  Take  yon  cafion 
above  Revelstoke,  fer  instance.  She'd  be  but 
a  graveyard,  if  the  tale  was  told.  One  time 
six  men  started  through  in  a  big  bateau,  and 
all  were  lost  but  one,  and  he  never  knew  how 
he  got  through  at  all.  Once  they  say  a  raft 
full  of  Chinamen  started  down,  and  all  were 
swept  off  and  drowned  but  one.  He  hung  to  a 
rope,  and  was  swept  through  somehow,  but 
when  they  found  him  he  was  so  bad  scared  he 
could  not  say  a  word.  He  hit  the  ties  afoot, 
goin'  west  and  shakin'  his  head,  and  maybe 
boimd  for  China.  No  man  could  ever  get 
him  to  spake  again ! 

"Now  do  ye  mind  the  big  rapids  up  there 
they  call  the  Death  Rapids,  above  the  Priest — 
I'm  thinkin'  ye  lined  through  there,  or  ye 
wouldn't  be  here  at  the  table  now,  much  as  I 
know  how  Leo  hates  to  line  a  boat." 

"We  certainly  did  line,"  said  Uncle  Dick, 
"and  were  glad  to  get  through  at  that.  We 
lost  almost  a  day  there  getting  down." 

"Lucky  ye  lost  no  more,  fer  manny  a  man 
308 


STORIES  OF  THE  COLUMBIA 

has  lost  his  all  at  that  very  spot.  Once  a  party 
of  fourteen  started  down,  in  good  boats,  too, 
and  only  one  man  got  out  alive.  Some  say 
sixty  men  have  been  drowned  in  that  one  rapid ; 
some  say  a  hundred  and  sixty-five,  counting  in 
the  Chinamen  and  Frenchmen  who  were 
drowned  in  the  big  stampede  the  time  so 
manny  started  down  to  the  diggings  on  rafts. 
Ye  see,  they'd  shoot  right  around  the  head  of 
the  bend  without  sendin'  a  man  ahead  to  pros- 
pect the  water,  and  then  when  they  saw  the 
rapids,  'twas  too  late  to  get  to  either  side. 
'Tis  a  death  trap  she  is  there,  and  well  named. 

"Wan  time  a  Swede  was  spilled  out  on  the 
Death  Rapids,  and  somehow  he  came  through 
alive.  He  swam  for  two  miles  below  there  be- 
fore they  could  catch  him  with  a  boat,  and 
he'd  been  swimming  yet  if  they  hadn't  caught 
him,  he  was  that  scared,  and  if  they  hadn't  hit 
him  on  the  head  with  a  oar.  'Twas  entirely 
crazy  he  was. 

"Mayhap  ye  remember  the  cabin  on  the 
west  side,  where  they're  sluicing — that's  Joe 
Howard's  cabin.  Well,  Howard,  like  every- 
wan  else  on  the  river,  finds  it  easiest  to  get  in 
and  out  by  boat.  Wan  time  he  and  his  mate 
were  lining  down  a  boat  not  far  from  shore 

309 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE  ROCKIES 

when  she  broke  away.  Howard  jumped  on  a 
rock,  but  'twas  so  far  out  he  dared  not  try  to 
swim  ashore,  fer  the  current  set  strong.  The 
other  man  grabbed  the  boat  and  got  through 
the  edge  of  the  rapids  somehow,  but  'twas  half 
a  mile  below  before  he  got  ashore.  Then  he 
cuddn't  get  the  boat  up  again  to  where  How- 
ard was,  and  'twas  two  or  three  hours  of  figger- 
in'  he  did  before  Howard  dared  take  the 
plunge  and  try  to  catch  the  pole  which  his 
mate  reached  out  to  him.  'Twas  well-nigh 
crazy  he  was — a  man  nearly  always  goes  crazy 
when  he's  left  out  on  a  rock  in  the  fast  water 
that  way. 

"  The  Priest  Rapids  is  another  murderer,  and 
I'll  not  say  how  many  have  perished  there. 
You  tell  me  that  your  boats  ran  it  at  this  stage 
of  water?  'Twas  wonderful,  then,  that's  all. 
Men  have  come  through,  'tis  true,  and  tender- 
feet  at  that,  and  duffers,  at  that.  Two  were 
once  cast  in  the  Priest,  and  only  one  got 
through,  and  he  could  not  swim  a  stroke !  They 
say  that  sixty  miners  were  lost  in  that  rapid 
in  one  year. 

"  To  be  sure,  maybe  these  are  large  tales,  for 
such  matters  grow,  most  like,  as  the  years  go 
by,  but  ye've  seen  the  river  yerselves,  and  ye 

310 


STORIES  OF  THE  COLUMBIA 

know  what  the  risk  is.  Take  a  band  of  miners, 
foolhardy  men,  and  disgust  them  with  try  in' 
to  get  out  of  this  country  afoot — and  'tis  aw- 
ful going  on  foot  through  here — and  a  raft  is 
the  first  thing  they  think  of — 'tis  always  a 
tenderfoot's  first  idea.  There's  nothing  so 
hard  to  handle  as  a  raft.  Now  here  they 
come,  singin'  and  shoutin',  and  swing  around 
the  bend  before  they  see  the  Death  Rapids,  or 
the  Priest,  we'll  say.  They  run  till  the  first 
cellar-door  wave  rolls  back  on  them  and  the 
raft  plunges  her  nose  in.  Then  the  raft  goes 
down,  and  the  men  are  swept  off,  and  there's 
no  swimming  in  the  Columbia  for  most  men. 
There's  not  annything  left  then  fer  anny  man 
to  do  except  the  priest — and  belike  that's  why 
they  call  it  the  Priest  Rapids." 

"I've  often  wondered,"  said  Rob,  "when 
we  were  coming  down  that  stream,  whether 
some  of  those  Alaska  Indians  with  their  big 
sea-canoes  could  not  run  this  river — they're 
splendid  boats  for  rough  water,  and  they  go 
out  in  almost  any  weather." 

"And  where'U  ye  be  meanin',  my  boy?" 
asked  O'Brien. 

"Along  the  upper  Alaska  coast.  You  see, 
we  live  at  Valdez." 

20  311 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

' '  Alaska  ?  Do  ye  hear  that  now !  And  that '  s 
the  place  I've  been  wanting  to  see  all  me  life! 
They  tell  me  'tis  foine  up  there,  and  plenty  of 
gold,  too.  But  tell  me,  why  do  ye  come  down 
to  this  coimtry  from  so  good  a  place  as  Alas- 
ka?" 

"Well,  we  were  just  traveling  about,  you 
know,"  said  Rob,  "and  we  wanted  to  see  some 
of  this  country  along  the  Rockies  before  it  got 
too  common  and  settled  up.  You  see,  this 
isn't  our  first  trip  across  the  Rockies;  we  ran 
the  Peace  River  from  the  summit  down  last 
summer,  and  had  a  bully  time.  The  fact  is, 
every  trip  we  take  seems  to  us  better  than  any 
of  the  others.  You  must  come  up  some  time 
and  see  us  in  Alaska." 

"It's  that  same  I'll  be  doin',  ye  may  depend,'.' 
said  O'Brien,  "the  first  chance  I  get.  'Tis 
weary  I  get  here,  all  by  myself,  with  no  one  to 
talk  to,  and  no  sport  but  swearin'  at  a  lot  of 
pig-tailed  Chinks,  and  not  time  to  go  grizzly- 
huntin'  even — though  they  do  tell  me  there's 
fine  grizzly-huntin'  twelve  miles  back,  in  the 
Standard  Basin.  So  'tis  here  I  sit,  and  watch 
that  mountain  yonder  that  they've  named  for 
pore  Sam  Boyd — Boyd's  Peak,  they  call  it, 
and  'tis  much  like  old  Assiniboine  she  looks, 

312 


STORIES  OF  THE  COLUMBIA 

isn't  it?  Just  that  I  be  doin'  day  by  day,  and 
all  the  time  be  wantin'  to  see  Alaska.  And 
now  here  comes  me  friend  Leo  from  the  Cache, 
and  brings  a  lot  of  Alaskans  ye'd  be  expectia' 
annywhere  else  but  here  or  there!  'Tis  fine 
byes  ye  are,  to  come  so  far,  and  I'll  be  hopin' 
to  meet  ye  in  Alaska  one  of  these  fine  days,  for 
I'm  a  bit  of  a  miner  myself,  as  most  of  us  are 
up  here." 

"She's  good  boy,"  said  Moise,  who  took 
much  pride  in  his  young  friends.  "She  ain't 
scare'  go  an3rwhere  on  the  riviere  with  Moise 
and  his  oncle,  or  even  with  Leo  and  George. 
I  s'pose  next  year  she'll  come  see  Moise  again, 
maybe-so." 

The  boys  laughed  and  looked  at  Uncle  Dick. 
"I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Rob,  "but 
we'll  be  wanting  to  go  somewhere  next  sum- 
mer." 

"That's  a  long  time  off,"  said  their  tm- 
cle. 

O'Brien,  after  they  had  spent  some  time  in 
this  manner  of  conversation,  began  to  look  at 
his  watch.  "  Carlson's  pretty  prompt,"  said 
he — "that's  the  skipper  of  the  Columbia. 
We'll  be  hearin*  her  whistle  before  long." 

"Then  this  about  ends  our  trip,  doesn't  it, 
313 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

Uncle  Dick?"  said  John  once  more;  and  his 
uncle  nodded. 

"  I'm  going  to  give  O'Brien  one  of  the  boats," 
said  he,  "and  I'll  let  the  title  to  the  other  and 
the  cook  outfit  rest  in  Leo  and  George — they 
may  be  coming  through  here  again  one  way  or 
the  other  some  day.  As  for  us,  we've  been 
lucky,  and  I  think  we  would  better  wait  here 
a  day  rather  than  go  on  with  our  boats." 

They  passed  out  into  the  bright  stinlight  to 
look  about  at  the  fine  mountain  prospect 
which  stretched  before  them  from  the  top  of 
the  bluff.  They  had  not  long  to  wait  before 
they  heard  the  boom  of  the  steamboat's 
whistle,  and  soon  the  Columbia,  thrust  for- 
ward by  her  powerful  engines,  could  be  seen 
bucking  the  flood  of  the  Columbia  and  slowly 
churning  her  way  up-stream.  She  landed  op- 
posite the  wood-chute  of  the  wood-yard,  where 
a  crowd  of  jabbering  Chinamen  gathered. 
Soon  our  party  walked  in  that  direction  also, 
and  so  became  acquainted  with  Carlson,  the 
skipper  of  the  boat,  who  agreed  to  take  them 
down  to  Revelstoke  the  following  day. 


XXX 

THE  END    OF   THE  TRAIL 

ALTHOUGH  O'Brien  offered  them  beds  in 
L  his  house,  and  Carison  bunks  on  board  the 
Columbia,  Rob,  John,  and  Jesse  all  preferred 
to  sleep  out-of-doors  as  long  as  they  could,  and 
so  made  their  beds  on  the  grass-plot  at  the  top 
of  the  bluff,  not  putting  up  any  tent,  as  the 
mosquitoes  here  were  not  bad.  They  were 
rather  tired;  and,  feeling  that  their  trip  was 
practically  over,  with  little  excitement  remain- 
ing, they  slept  soundly  and  did  not  awake  imtil 
the  sun  was  shining  in  their  faces. 

"Come  on,  fellows,"  said  Jesse,  kicking  off 
his  blankets.  "I  suppose  now  we'll  have  to 
get  used  to  washing  in  a  real  wash-basin  and 
using  a  real  towel.  Somehow  I  feel  more 
sorry  than  happy,  even  if  it  was  rather  rough 
work  coming  down  the  river." 

This  seemed  to  be  the  feeling  of  both  the 
others,  and  they  were  not  talkative  at  the 

31S 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

breakfast-table,  where  O'Brien  had  suppHed 
them  with  a  fine  meal,  including  abundance  of 
fresh-laid  eggs  from  his  own  farm-yard. 

After  breakfast  they  employed  themselves 
chiefly  in  making  themselves  as  tidy  as  they 
could  and  in  packing  their  few  personal  pos- 
sessions in  shape  for  railway  transportation. 
Most  of  their  outfit,  however,  they  gave  away 
to  the  men  who  were  to  remain  behind  them. 
Toward  noon  the  whistle  of  the  steamboat 
announced  that  she  was  ready  to  take  up  her 
down -stream  trip ;  so  the  young  Alaskans  were 
obliged  to  say  good-by  to  O'Brien,  in  whose 
heart  they  had  found  a  warm  place. 

"Good  luck  to  ye,  byes,"  said  he,  "and 
don't  be  diggin'  all  the  gold  up  in  Alaska,  for 
'tis  myself  '11  be  seein'  ye  wan  of  these  days — 
'tis  a  foine  country  entirely,  and  I'm  wishin' 
fer  a  change." 

Leo  and  George,  without  any  instructions, 
had  turned  in  to  help  the  boat  crew  in  their 
work  of  pushing  off.  Moise,  once  aboard  the 
boat,  seemed  unusually  silent  and  thoughtful 
for  him,  until  Rob  rallied  him  as  to  his  sorrow- 
ful countenance. 

"Well,"  said  Moise,  "you  boy  will  all  go 
back  on  Alaska  now,  and  Moise  she's  got  to  go 

316 


THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL 

home  on  the  Peace  River.  I'll  not  been  scare 
of  the  horse  or  the  canoe,  but  this  steamboat 
and  those  railroad  train  she'll  scare  Moise 
plenty.  All  the  time  I'm  think  she'll  ron  off 
the  track  and  bust  Moise." 

"You  mustn't  feel  that  way,"  said  Rob, 
"for  that's  Uncle  Dick's  business — finding 
places  for  railroads  to  run.  That's  going  to 
be  my  business  too,  sometime,  as  I  told  you. 
I  think  it's  fine — going  out  here  where  all  those 
old  chaps  went  a  hundred  years  ago,  and  to 
see  the  country  about  as  they  saw  it,  and  to 
live  and  travel  just  about  as  they  did.  iVlen 
can  live  in  the  towns  if  they  like,  but  in  the 
towns  anybody  can  get  on  who  has  money  so 
he  can  buy  things.  But  in  the  country  where 
we've  been,  money  wouldn't  put  you  through; 
you've  got  to  know  how  to  do  things,  and  not 
be  afraid." 

"S'pose  you  boys  keep  on,"  said  Moise, 
"bime-by  you  make  voyage ur.  Then  you 
come  with  Moise  —  she'll  show  you  some- 
thing!" 

"Well,  Moise,"  continued  Rob,  "if  we  don't 
see  you  many  a  time  again  it  won't  be  our 
fault,  you  may  be  sure." 

"I'm  just  wondering,"  said  Jesse,  "how 
317 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

Leo  and  George  are  going  to  get  back  up  to 
the  Tete  Jaune  Cache.  They  told  us  they 
meant  to  go  up  the  Ashcroft  trail  and  home  by 
way  of  Fort  George  and  the  Fraser  River  and 
the  'choo-choo  boat.'  But  that  seems  a  long 
way  around.  I  suppose  you'll  come  to  the 
hotel  with  us,  down  to  Revelstoke,  won't  you 
Leo?"  he  added. 

"No  like  'um,"  said  Leo.  "My  cousin  and 
me,  we  live  in  woods  till  time  to  take  choo- 
choo  that  way  to  Ashcrof '." 

"Well,  in  that  case,"  said  John,  "I  think 
we'd  better  give  you  our  mosquito-tent;  you 
may  need  it  more  than  we  will,  and  we  can  get 
another  up  from  Seattle  at  any  time." 

"Tent  plenty  all  right,"  said  Leo.  "Thank." 
And  when  John  fished  it  out  of  the  pack-bag 
and  gave  it  to  him  he  turned  it  over  to  George 
with  a  few  words  in  his  own  language. 

George  carried  it  away  without  comment. 
They  were  all  very  much  surprised  a  little 
later,  however,  to  discover  him  working  away 
on  the  tent  with  his  knife,  and,  to  their  great 
disgust,  they  observed  that  he  was  busily  en- 
gaged in  cutting  out  all  the  bobbinet  windows 
and  in  ripping  the  front  of  the  tent  open  so 
that  it  was  precisely  like  any  other  tent !  John 

318 


THE   END  OF  THE  TRAIL 

was  very  indignant  at  this,  but  his  reproof  had 
Httle  effect  on  Leo. 

' '  Tent  plenty  all  right  now, ' '  said  he.  "  Let 
plenty  air  inside!  Mosquito  no  bite  'um 
Injun." 

When  they  came  to  think  of  it  this  seemed 
so  fimny  to  them  that  they  rolled  on  the  deck 
with  laughter,  but  they  all  agreed  to  let  Leo 
arrange  his  own  outfit  after  that. 

They  passed  steadily  on  down  between  the 
lofty  banks  of  the  Columbia,  here  a  river  sev- 
eral hundred  yards  in  width,  and  more  like  a 
lake  than  a  stream  in  many  of  its  wider  bends. 
They  could  see  white-topped  mountains  in 
many  different  directions,  and,  indeed,  close  to 
them  lay  one  of  the  most  wonderful  mountain 
regions  of  the  continent,  with  localities  rarely 
visited  at  that  time  save  by  hunters  or  trav- 
elers as  bold  as  themselves. 

Carlson,  the  good-natured  skipper  of  the 
Columbia  y  asked  the  boys  all  up  to  the 
wheelhouse  with  him,  and  even  allowed  Rob 
to  steer  the  boat  a  half-mile  in  one  of  the 
open  and  easy  bends.  He  told  them  about 
his  many  adventurous  trips  on  the  great  river 
and  explained  to  them  the  allowances  it  was 
necessary  to  make  for  the  current  on  a  bend, 

319 


YOUNG  ALASKANS   IN  THE   ROCKIES 

the  best  way  of  getting  off  a  bar,  and  the 
proper  method  of  making  a  landing. 

"You  skall  make  good  pilot-man  pratty 
soon,"  he  said  to  Rob,  approvingly.  "Not 
manny  man  come  down  the  Colomby.  That 
take  pilot-man,  too." 

"Well,"  said  Rob,  modestly,  "we  didn't 
really  do  very  much  of  it  ourselves,  but  I  be- 
lieve we'd  have  rim  the  rapids  wherever  the 
men  did  if  they  had  allowed  us  to." 

"Batter  not  nm  the  rapid  so  long  you  can 
walk,  young  man,"  said  Carlson.  "The safest 
kind  sailorman  ban  the  man  that  always  stay 
on  shore."  And  he  laughed  heartily  at  his 
own  wit. 

The  boat  tied  up  at  the  head  of  the  Revel- 
stoke  Cafion,  and  here  the  boys  put  their 
scanty  luggage  in  a  wagon  which  had  come  out 
to  meet  her,  and  started  off,  carrying  their 
rifles,  along  the  wagon- trail  which  leads  from 
above  the  cafion  to  the  town,  part  of  the  time 
on  a  high  trestle. 

When  they  came  abreast  of  the  cafion  they 
were  well  in  advance  of  the  men,  who  also  were 
walking  in,  and  they  concluded  to  go  to  the 
brink  of  the  cafion  and  look  down  at  the  water. 

It  was  a  wild  sight  enough  which  they  saw 
320 


REVELSTOKE   CANON 


THE   END  OF  THE  TRAIL 

from  their  lofty  perch.  The  great  Columbia 
River,  lately  so  broad  and  lakelike,  was  com- 
pressed into  a  narrow  strip  of  raging  white 
water,  driven  down  with  such  force  that  they 
could  see  very  plainly  the  upfiimg  rib  of  the 
river,  forced  above  the  level  of  the  edges  by  the 
friction  on  the  perpendictilar  rock  walls.  From 
where  they  peered  over  the  brink  they  could  see 
vast  white  surges,  and  could  even  distinguish 
the  strange,  irregular  swells,  or  boils,  which 
without  warning  or  regularity  come  up  at 
times  from  the  depths  of  this  erratic  river. 
They  quite  agreed  that  it  would  have  been 
impossible  for  a  boat  to  go  through  Revel- 
stoke  Cation  alive  at  the  stage  of  the  water  as 
they  saw  it.  Rob  tried  to  make  a  photograph, 
which  he  said  he  was  going  to  take  home  to 
show  to  his  mother. 

"You'd  better  not,"  said  John.  "You'll 
get  the  folks  to  thinking  that  this  sort  of 
thing  isn't  safe!" 

The  boys  stood  back  from  the  rim  of  the 
cafion  after  a  while  and  waited  for  the  others  to 
come  up  with  them. 

"We  think  this  one  looks  about  as  bad  as 
anything  we've  seen,  Uncle  Dick,"  said  Rob. 
"A  man  might  get  through  once  in  a  while, 

321 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE   ROCKIES 

and  they  say  Sam  Boyd  and  Tom  Horn  did 
make  it  more  than  once  before  it  got  them.  It 
doesn't  look  possible  to  me  to  run  it." 

"The  river  is  a  lot  worse  than  the  Peace," 
said  John.  "Of  course,  there's  the  Rocky 
Mountain  Cafion,  which  nobody  can  get 
through  either  way,  and  there  isn't  any  port- 
age as  bad  as  that  on  the  whole  Columbia  Big 
Bend.  But  for  number  of  bad  rapids  this 
river  is  a  lot  worse  than  the  Peace." 

"Yes,"  assented  the  others,  "in  some  ways 
this  is  a  wilder  and  more  risky  trip  than  the 
one  we  had  last  year.  But  we've  had  a  pretty 
good  time  of  it  just  the  same,  haven't  we?" 

"We  certainly  have,"  said  Rob;  and  John 
and  Jesse  answered  in  the  same  way.  "I 
only  wish  it  wasn't  all  over  so  soon,"  added 
Jesse,  disconsolately. 

The  boys,  hardy  and  lighter  of  foot  even 
than  their  companions,  raced  on  ahead  over 
the  few  remaining  miles  into  Revelstoke  town, 
leaving  the  bank  of  the  river,  which  here 
swung  off  broad  and  mild  enough  once  it  had 
emerged  from  its  cafion  walls.  Before  them 
lay  the  town  of  Revelstoke,  with  its  many 
buildings,  its  railway  trains,  and  its  signs  of 
life  and  activity. 

322 


THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL 

In  town  they  all  found  a  great  budget  of 
mail  awaiting  them,  and  concluded  to  spend 
the  night  at  Revelstoke  in  order  to  do  certain 
necessary  writing  and  telegraphing.  They 
had  several  letters  from  their  people  in  Alaska, 
but  none  announcing  any  word  from  them- 
selves after  they  had  arrived  at  Edmonton,  so 
that  some  of  the  letters  bore  rather  an  anxious 
note. 

"What  would  it  cost  to  send  a  telegram 
from  here  to  Seattle,  and  a  cablegram  up  the 
coast,  and  then  by  wireless  up  to  the  fort 
near  Valdez?"  inquired  Rob.  "That  ought 
to  get  through  to-morrow,  and  just  two  or 
three  words  to  let  them  know  we  were  out  safe 
might  make  them  all  feel  pretty  comfortable. 
It's  a  good  thing  they  don't  know  just  what 
we've  been  through  the  last  few  days." 

"Well,  you  go  down  to  the  station  and  see 
if  it  can  be  done,"  said  Uncle  Dick,  "and  I'll 
foot  the  bill.  Get  your  berths  for  the  next 
Transcontinental  west  to  Vancouver,  and  re- 
serve accommodations  for  Moise  and  me  going 
east.  Leo  and  George,  I'm  thinking,  will 
want  to  wait  here  for  a  while;  with  so  much 
money  as  he  has  as  grizzly  premiimis  and 
wages,  Leo  is  not  going  to  leave  until  he  has 

323 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

seen  something  of  the  attractions  of  this  city. 
Ixi  fact,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  got  broke 
here  and  walked  back  up  to  O'Brien's  and 
took  his  boat  there  up  the  Columbia.  They 
always  get  back  home  some  way,  the  beggars, 
and  I'll  warrant  you  that  when  we  all  go 
to  the  Tete  Jaune  Cache  by  rail,  a  couple 
of  years  from  now,  we'll  see  Leo  and  George 
waiting    for    us    at   the   train   as  happy   as 


"I  wonder  if  my  pony  '11  be  there  too? "  said 
John. 

"He  will,  unless  sornething  very  imusual 
should  happen  to  him.  You'll  find  the  word 
of  an  Indian  good ;  and,  although  Leo  does  not 
talk  rnuch,  I  would  depend  on  him  absolutely 
in  any  prornise  that  he  made.  We  will  have 
to  agree  that  he  has  been  a  good  man  in  every- 
thing he  agreed  to  do,  a  good  hunter  and  a 
good  boatman." 

"We  may  go  in  there  and  have  a  himt  with 
him  some  time  after  the  road  comes  through," 
said  Rob.  "In  fact,  all  this  northern  country 
will  seem  closer  together  when  the  road  gets 
through  to  Prince  Rupert.  Why,  that's  a  lot 
closer  to  Valdez  than  Vancouver  is,  and  we 
could  just  step  right  off  the  cars  there  and  get 

324 


THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL 

off  at  Leo's,  or  even  go  up  to  Yellowhead 
Lake  and  get  another  goat." 

"Or  find  the  place  where  John  fell  off  the 
raft,"  added  Jesse,  laughing. 

"Or  go  on  across  to  where  Uncle  Dick  may 
be  working,  one  side  or  other  of  the  summit. 
I  wish  he  didn't  have  to  go  back  to  Edmonton, 
and  could  come  on  home  with  us  now.  But 
we  can  tell  them  all  about  it  when  we  get 
home." 

"Where'd  you  like  to  go  the  next  time,  if 
you  had  a  chance,  Rob?"  asked  John. 

"There  are  a  lot  of  places  I'd  like  to  see," 
said  Rob.  ' '  For  one  thing,  I've  always  wanted 
to  go  down  the  Mackenzie  and  then  over  the 
Rat  portage  to  the  Yukon,  then  out  to  Skag- 
way — that  'd  be  something  of  a  trip.  Then  I've 
always  had  a  hankering  to  go  up  the  Saskat- 
chewan and  come  up  over  the  Howse  Pass. 
And  some  day  we  may  see  the  Athabasca  Pass 
and  the  trail  above  the  Boat  Encampment. 
The  railroads  have  spoiled  a  lot  of  the  passes 
south  of  there,  but  when  you  come  to  read 
books  on  exploration  you'll  find  a  lot  of  things 
happened,  even  in  the  United  States,  in  places 
where  the  railroads  haven't  gone  yet.  We'll 
have  to  see  some  of  those  coimtries  sometime." 

325 


YOUNG  ALASKANS  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

"How  is  your  map  coming  on,  John?"  in- 
quired Uncle  Dick,  a  little  later,  when  once 
more  they  had  met  in  their  room  at  the  hotel. 

"I've  got  this  one  almost  done,"  said  John. 


THE  END 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


JAN  2     1968 


RECEIVED 


DEC22'67-1PM 


^1 


LD  21A-60m-2,'67 
(H241slO)476B 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


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